The Burden
by Sentri
Summary: Post Reichenbach. Sherlock returns to John to find an unexpected surprise. First fanfic, not very good with summaries. Read and review if it sounds good to you. If not, read and review anyway. Rated T for language. Not yet completed.
1. Chapter 1

_ No New Messages_

John sighed and slid his phone shut. It had been three weeks. It was officially over.

He looked around his flat, running his fingers through his graying hair. She`d taken all of her belongings, which really didn`t leave much, as she had furnished the entire house. A couch, the end table, and everything she couldn`t pick up on her own in her rage was all that was left for him. Asleep on the ratty old couch was the one thing she could have taken but didn`t. The burden.

Suddenly his phone beeped and he opened it with sweaty hands. Maybe she`d changed her mind, maybe she wanted to come back, maybe she still loved him...

_ New Message from Molly_

Not Rene.

MH: _hi, jon, its molly. was wondering if u could come by st barts for a bit? think i found one of his old notebooks maybe_

** JW**_**: Send it to Mycroft or something. I don`t want it.**_

MH:_ really it looks important. u should really come get it._

** JW:****_ Molly I don`t want it. Keep it, burn it, I really don`t care._**

MH:_ Come get the notebook. Now._

He shoved the phone in his pocket, annoyed, and walked to his computer. His mind was turmoil, swirling with bad memories and nightmares. He hadn`t seen his therapist in months, and he wasn`t all that eager to go back to her. He realized his fingers were already on the keyboard, the cursor a blinking line, as if it were eager for him to type a new entry. The screen remained blank. He wasn`t ready. Not yet.

He slammed the laptop shut and the level breathing from the couch faltered for a moment. John bit his lip. When the boy awoke, John would have to tell him. _Mommy`s not coming home._ He did not look forward to it.

For a while, he just sat there, wondering what to do. His old flatmate`s ways of getting so easily bored had rubbed off on him, and now he was dying for something to keep his mind off of... Well, everything.

His laptop was opened again after a few minutes of indecision, and he spent nearly half an hour searching for entertainment through the web. There wasn`t much, but at least he was occupied.

The bell caught him completely off guard. His laptop was quickly shut as his eyes darted across the room in search of intruders. _It was the door bell, idiot,_ he told himself. A slight moan escaped from the drowsy boy on the couch, but again the child dozed off.

John crept from the room and darted down the stairs before the tall figure outside his door could ring the bell again. He turned the handle and peered out through the crack to see a tall man in shaggy clothing holding a package on his doorstep. He wore a low-brimmed hat that covered his face, which was okay because John didn`t really care what he looked like anyway.

"Who is it?!" called Ms. Rill, the landlady, from the basement. Her voice was raw and scratchy from this morning`s hangover.

"It`s just a delivery man, Ms. Rill, I`ve got a package!" he shouted back.

"Mind if I come in, sir? The air`s a bit chilly out here," asked the delivery man. His voice sounded old, but his unwrinkled hands showed otherwise as he handed John the clipboard.

"Um, yes, of course." He opened the door wider, holding the clipboard to his chest. The man adjusted his thick coat and handed John a pen.  
"Sign, here, here, and here-and there."

"Thank you, sir," he said when he was done. He traded the clipboard for the package and began untying the twine. The delivery man didn`t move and John cleared his throat. "Um, thank you, you can leave now."

Silence. "Seriously, get out."

Suddenly the man`s back straightened and his face took its familiar, self-important tilt. A quick half smile was all it took to make John`s eyes widen, because at that moment, the man`s identity became unmistakeable. "So soon?" asked a familiar voice. "I`d venture to say we`ve some important things to catch up on, John."

Sherlock Holmes removed his hat, placed it on the peg by the door, and stood smirking down at his awestruck friend. John took three quick steps backwards, bracing himself against the wall. "Oh, my God, I`m crazy..." muttered John. "Holy s***, holy s***... You`re really standing there, are you?"

He nodded. John looked him up and down for a moment, then without warning punched him, hard, in the face. Sherlock`s head snapped to the side. "What the bloody hell was that for?!" he shouted.

"You`ve been missing for six freaking years and you just show up at my house like I saw you last week?! What the hell were you expecting?! 'Oh, hi, Sherlock, glad to see you`re not dead, let`s go grab a cup of tea and talk about our day!' You were supposed to be dead! You`re dead!"

John stood there panting in his anger. Sherlock gave him an questioning look. "Well, in all honesty, I was suspecting a bit more of a warm welcome."  
The blunt remark earned him a slap in the face. He narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed, rubbing his cheek. "Done?"

"Almost."

Sherlock caught John`s fist as he swung at him again and held it behind his back. "Yes, you`re done." He began walking John up the stairs, still keeping his arms immobile. "Now, I have Molly coming by soon with my belongings, I don`t have many, so it shouldn`t be too hard to unpack it. I hope you have an extra bedroom, but if not I`ll just sleep on the couch. Or not at all, as I do have a few cases at the-"

"Wait, Sherlock, Sherlock, slow down," John interjected. "Just... just give me a second to absorb this... I need to take a breath, here." They stopped at the first and only landing and John`s hands were freed. He squatted down on the wooden floors, his back in the corner, hands on his knees. "So, let me get this straight: You`re not dead?" Sherlock nodded. "And you expect to move into the flat again?"

"Well, yes, I was rather hoping things-"

"Right, and you... Molly knew you were alive." Sherlock nodded again. "And all this time, these six years, you`ve never taken the three minutes it would have taken to send a text, to just tell me... 'I`m not dead'?"

John`s voice was raw from yelling as he spoke the last three words. "Oh, please, John, don`t be like that," he said haughtily. "You know I have my reasons. No one other than Molly and Mycroft knew, and only because it was completely necessary."

"But, six years? Why didn`t you come sooner?"

"John, listen to me. Moriarty was not my only enemy. I had plenty more, and had you not believed I was truly dead, they would have known. I couldn`t tell you or niether of us would have been safe. I had to have them locked up before I revealed myself. Come on, that`s enough questions for now."

John began to protest as Sherlock pulled him up and guided him shakily to the stairs, but his voice only trailed off. He couldn`t think of anything more to say, except... "Sherlock, wait!"

"John-"

"No, Sherlock, listen to me. You can _not_ just come into my house expecting a place to sleep!"

"Excuse me?"

His hand was frozen on the door handle, already turned. He removed it slowly.

Noticing the hurt expression on his friend`s face, John shook his head. "Oh, not like that, Sherlock. Believe me, I`d be happy to give up a room for you to use, but I don`t have any to spare."

"That`s fine, I`ll take the couch-"

"No, you don`t understand! I-"

The doorknob rattled suddenly, cutting them both off. The door swung open slowly, revealing a short boy, sucking his thumb and holding a green blanket. "Daddy, I`m hungry," he whined, then noticed the tall stranger in his house. He looked him up and down, then glared.

"Who the hell are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

_ He looked him up and down, then glared._

_"Who the hell are you?"_

* * *

"Hamish!" John shouted. "Language!"

"Oh, I`m sorry. Who the hell are you,_ sir?"_

"Okay, into your room, Hamish, off you go." John shooed him away with both hands, as fatherly as the flustered man could get under the circumstances.

"My room is the _couch_!" shouted the boy angrily, but went and threw himself on the cushions anyway. He played loudly with a set of marbles he`d left on the table before his nap, trying as hard as he could to annoy his father and the tall man in the doorway. They were huddled together, whispering, but despite their best efforts, Hamish had been gifted with his father`s accute hearing, and he didn`t miss a word the two exchanged.

"I`m so sorry, Sherlock, he gets that from his mother," his dad whispered.

"I don`t care who he gets it from, who _is_ he?" the visitor whispered harshly.

"I`ve already told you, things happen, things _change_-the world didn`t just stop while you were... gone," he replied with exasperation.

The tall man, Sherlock, was silent for a moment as he absorbed the words. Reading his expression easily, Hamish added him onto his mental list of people who wished he had never been born. Sherlock`s voice was hollow as he spoke. "Who`s the mother?"

"Her name is Rene, you don`t know her."

"Well, I can see how that turned out."

Dad`s eyes flickered up as he noticed Hamish staring at them. "Maybe we should step outside."

Sherlock followed him out the door without complaint.

Somewhere in the depths of his foggy four-year-old mind, Hamish knew something was wrong. No matter what he had done, no matter how irritable he became, his father had always been truthful with him. No secrets. What was going on?

When the door creaked open a few minutes later, Dad walked slowly into the living room and sat on the couch. His expression was of stone.

"Hamish, come here, son," he said softly. Hamish scooted closer and Dad draped his arm over his shoulders. "Daddy has something important he needs to tell you."

He hated when Dad talked in the third person-constantly reminded him that he was too old for baby-talk-but the look in father`s eyes kept him silent this time. Hamish leaned closer to his father, listening to the normally calm heart beat quickly.

"Yes, Dad?"

"I`m sure you`ve noticed that Mummy hasn`t been around recently."

Hamish nodded, trying to piece together the information as fast as his young mind could. He had already had a sneaking suspicion of what was happening, but up until now, it had been out of the question. Now, he was not so sure.

Dad seemed to be having trouble forming words, but after a few slow exhalations, he finally said, "Hamish, Mummy isn`t... Mummy isn`t coming home."

Neither of them breathed as John waited fearfully for his son`s reaction and his son attempted to hold back tears. Sherlock, entirely oblivious of the tragic scene unfolding in the middle of the room, sauntered around the flat, looking for places to set his things when they came.

"Dad, am I ever going to see her again?" Hamish asked, his voice breaking slightly on 'ever' and 'again'.

John sighed. No secrets. But that didn`t mean he had to say it directly. Instead he said quietly, "I`m sorry, Hamish."

Were he any other man, John would have cried at seeing the hurt, tearful expression on his son`s face. However, he had watched his friends die. Eight of them. He could at least be strong for his own d**n son. Meanwhile, Hamish was attempting to be strong, too, if only to prove he wasn`t a baby. He knew he couldn`t hold off the tears for much longer and, hiding his face in his shirt, he ran to his father`s room. He slammed the door and locked it, letting tears flow when he knew no one could see him cry.

Hamish hurled himself onto the bed, and reached under it for the old wire cage, pulling it up next to him carefully. The grey rat inside paced even as the boy open the cage door, and didn`t fight when he pulled it out. He shoved the cage aside, clinging to the rat and crying. The rat didn`t squirm much, just let its tail flop around a bit before dozing off again. "Mum`s gone, Min," Hamish whispered. "She didn`t even say goodbye..."

Min exhaled in sympathy. "I know, Min, I know," Hamish replied between sobs, "but I... I don`t think she even loves me... She didn`t give me a warning, or... or anything." He burst into a bout of fresh tears and buried his face in the pillow.

The grey rat rolled to its side in a desperate attempt to cheer the boy up. Hamish understood, but even the sleeping rat`s best attempts were hopeless.

Hamish wished for all the world that he could choke on his own tears.

* * *

"Well, that could`ve gone better," Sherlock commented as the door slammed upstairs. He heard metal scuff on the wooden floor near the area the bed was most likley in. "He has an animal up there, you know."

"Yes, I know. It`s a rat. He calls it Min." John`s voice was still strained. He held his face in his hands, not crying, just thinking. Sherlock gave him a slightly concerned look, then shrugged. He would get over it.

Sherlock searched for an empty space on the messy floor that he could use for a bed during his stay there, but found none in the endless stacks of papers and files.

"I guess you can sleep on the couch, then, and I could make room in my bed for Hamish," John offered.

"Yes, that sounds fine, though I won`t be needing the couch tonight."

"No?"

"No. I have some research to finish up. I`ll sleep tomorrow."

"Sherlock, you can`t keep body parts in the refridgerator anymore! We`ve got a new landlady and I have a kid, and

I`m sure it would turn out badly if either one of them were traumatized by one of your d***ed experiments."

"Yes, yes, I get it: No organs, no eyeballs, no nothing. That`s not what I`m doing, anyway."

"Sherlock..."

"Stop nagging me! It won`t be anything loud or messy or 'disgusting' and I`ll be done by morning."

John narrowed his eyes, thinking through all the possibilities and loopholes. Finally he nodded. "Okay. Just... I`ll see you tomorrow, then."

The stairs creaked as he walked up them, limping slightly, and knocked softly on the door. When there was no answer, he swiped a spare key from the ledge on the wall and unlocked the door himself.

The doorbell to the flat rang and Sherlock went to retrieve his belongings. After taking the cardboard box that held everything he had left, he gave Molly a curt 'thank you' and slammed the door in her face. Sherlock searched through the box, checking the items off a mental list. Microscope, violin, scarf, skull, jacket, bouncy ball. Molly hadn`t missed a thing. She even got the file.

He set everything else down on the couch, then shoved away the items on John`s desk. This file was more important. He opened it and spread the pictures on the desk, along with the information he`d already gathered on them. Ten men and women, all trained assassins, all in London. He had until morning to find them.

Sherlock blocked out all the noise of the outside world. John snoring in his bed, the door slamming as the landlady left, probably for the nearest bar, all the noise slipped away entirely, leaving room in his mind only for thought. Pure thought.

Sherlock was vaguely aware of time passing. By the third hour or so, he had yet to make any progress, and he shoved the papers away in frustration. He would have paced, but the floors were old and creaky, and it would make too much noise for him to focus. He would play the violin, but John and that annoying little boy would wake up and distract him further. He grabbed a bouncy ball from the bin Molly had brought him and began rolling it around the table. It helped.

The assassin`s were near to the center of London. He knew that much. He knew they were smart, sharp as a blade, and much more deadly. But what else could he deduce if he`d never seen them except in a head-shot picture? They worked together, followed no one, and the oldest, brown-haired man in the pictures was the leader of the small group. That was all, and yet there had to be more...

His train of thought was broken by the sound of creaking as the door to the building opened and Ms. Rill staggered in, giggling, with footsteps following closely behind. Heavy, male, irregular walking pattern. Drunk.

"She does this every night," said a voice from behind him.

The consulting detective wasn`t surprised by the boy`s sudden appearance. He had heard the creak on the stairway a few moments after the door had opened. Not wanting to talk, Sherlock put his bouncy ball back into the bin, went back to John`s desk, and reopened the files. Once again, he began to pore over the information, though he could still hear the boy babbling in the background.

When Sherlock didn`t reply, Hamish tried a different approach. "Have you met Min?"

Hamish pulled the squeaking rat from his shoulder and held it up to the man`s ear so Min`s cold nose could almost touch his cheek. There was still no reply. The boy huffed. "Why won`t you just talk to me?!"

"Could you do us all a favor and shut up for a minute?" he finally said. Hamish smiled, pleased with himself.

"See? That`s better." He pulled Min back to his shoulder where he wriggled into a more comfortable position.

Sherlock gave an annoyed sound to show he had heard.

Hamish, for the first time since meeting him, really looked at the man. Curly black hair covered his pale face, and dark circles were under his eyes as though he hadn`t slept for days. His piercing blue eyes seemed to burn holes through the files. He wasn`t like most of Dad`s friends, all happy, and chatty, and 'oh, look at the cute little baby Hamish', with dull brains hiding behind dull eyes. No, this one was different. Hamish liked him.

"Mind if I watched you?" asked Hamish with false politeness. Sherlock didn`t even glance back to him.

"I believe your father specifically told me not to do anything loud so you would sleep. You`re defeating the purpose."

Ignoring him, Hamish pulled a kitchen chair over next to the desk and stood on it so he could see the papers.

"Whatcha` doing?"

"I`m trying to figure out the whereabouts of these ten men and women. It is very important that I-don`t touch that!"

The four year old had gone into the living room, dismissing Sherlock`s job as a boring one without even looking at the files, and had begun to search through the contents of the cardboard box. He dropped the human skull he had picked out back into the box, where it landed with a soft thud on the jacket, thankfully safe.

Hamish looked down at the skull, then back to Sherlock, his hands frozen just above the box and his features a mask of horror. "Sorry..."

"Don`t apologize. It gets you nowhere."

"Oh, sor-um... right."

In hopes the boy would leave him alone, Sherlock chose not to explain how he had come by the skull. He hoped he was making the little annoyance uncomfortable. He`d never liked small children, specifically nosy ones, and this one definitely fit the bill. Hamish, or whatever John had called him, was a pudgy boy, probably about four or five. He had straight dark brown hair and glassy green eyes. Unhindered in his growth, this boy would most definitely grow into a proper idiot, Sherlock decided cynically.

Once again, Hamish`s high voice cut through Sherlock`s thought process like a dagger. "Hey, hey Sherlock?"  
The boy stood on the chair again, his hands on the desk, taking up as much space as they could. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "What?" he growled.

"Why are you looking at the pictures of my teachers?"

"What?"

"My teachers! See, that one`s Ms. Caesar, and that one is Mr. Sydney..." His voice trailed off at the wide-eyed expression on Sherlock`s face. Sherlock noticed the silence, and looked down at Hamish.

"Go on, go on! Who are they? Give me their names!" He was practically shouting now as he wrote down the names he had already been given next to the pictures.

"Um... um, that one is Ms. Moirah, and I don`t know the rest."

"What? What do you mean you don`t know the rest? You have to know the rest!"

"They`re all teachers for the older kids! I don`t know! I`m sorry!"

Sherlock leaped up from the crouched position he had been using to talk to the little boy and began to pace, not caring that the floors creaked and groaned loud enough to wake the dead. He stopped abruptly and turned to Hamish, who still cowered by the desk, holding his rat. "You`re sure they`re all teachers, though, yes?"

"One`s a janitor..."

"Which?"

He stood and pointed to the picture of an old, brown-haired man with a hunched back. "I don`t know his name."

"It`s fine." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand and started pacing again. School teachers-and in a preschool, too! Clever... "Is there a school assembly tomorrow?"

"How did you know?"

"Who all is coming?"

"They`re introducing the new preschoolers to the school, so... everyone... All the parents and teachers and kids."  
Now Sherlock held all the strings. He loved the feeling this sort of power gave him, when he knew who, what, where, when, how... There was just one thing he was unsure of... Why? Love, money, power, or revenge? It was always one of the four. His thoughts went back to a darker time... Maybe they did it for the sake of entertainment. He had something to work with now, at least, and he needed to be alone.

"Hamish, why don`t you go back upstairs..." Sherlock suggested.

"Why? I could help you more!" Hamish said, a self-important smile on his face.

"No, no, the best way you can help me is by going upstairs and going back to sleep."

Hamish pouted, but Min`s long, wormy tail flicking next to his cheek kind of ruined the image. When Sherlock didn`t break down at the toddler`s last resort, Hamish sighed and stomped upstairs. For someone who`d been in the army, John was a heavy sleeper, and didn`t even groan as Hamish crawled noisily into bed.

Sherlock stopped pacing and sunk into the couch, bringing his knees up to his chin and smiling excitedly. It all made sense now, and every detail and aspect of their plan was brilliant! He slid open his phone and texted Mycroft.

**SH:**_** I found your criminals. -SH**_

MH:_ Good. Where? -MH_

**SH: ****_ Meet me at Angelo`s in half an hour. -SH_**

* * *

_A/N: That`s right: cliffhanger! I went there :P Anyway, so I know it`s a bit cryptic right now, but it`ll all make sense in the next chapter. Until then, (and I never thought I`d be one of the writers begging for reviews), I need a couple reviews. I`ve got to know how I`m doing if you want it to be better!_

_-SS_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:**__ Okay, I`m warning you right now that there are so many point-of-view changes in this chapter that it`s not even funny. You might like it, you might not. I thought it was kind of interesting. Tell me what'cha think... _

* * *

_** SH: I found your criminals. -SH**_

_ MH: Good. Where? -MH_

_** SH: Meet me at Angelo`s in half an hour. -SH**_

* * *

Mycroft hadn`t been pleased to hear that Sherlock couldn`t figure out the motive of the assassins. Regardless, he trusted the facts he`d been given and had promised to meet with his brother at the St. Edyn`s Elementary Preschooler`s assembly later that day, where he and his men would wait for the impending assualt. They hadn`t yet gained enough evidence to take them away immediatly, and the best they could do was to be prepared.

Now, as the sun rose up over London and burned of the morning fog, Sherlock stood outside John`s flat on Marlin Street, admiring that which most took for granted. He didn`t really care about the solar systems and sunrises much, but that didn`t mean he couldn`t appreciate the beauty of it.

He was just about to push through the doors to the flat when the burly man Ms. Rill had brought home last night raced outside, pulling his shoes on rapidly, not at all groomed. He wobbled even as he ran down the street, hailing for a cab. Watching him, Sherlock really couldn`t blame him. From what he`d seen so far, Ms. Rill wasn`t all that charming a lady. He stepped into the flat just as the man was driven away.

Sherlock heard the commontion upstairs before John rushed Hamish down the stairs as he tried to pull a knapsack over his shoulders. "Move, move, move, out of the way, Sherlock, move!" John drilled as the two nearly fell down the stairs. Sherlock was swept to the side by a bulging backpack, but followed immediatly after.  
John knew he looked as unkempt and dirty as he had for years as he raced, sweating, down the roads of London. He dragged Hamish behind him with one hand, the very picture of bad parenting. He heard loud footsteps behind him, louder than those Hamish could produce, and turned his head to see Sherlock gaining on him with unsurprising speed. "Sherlock, what on Earth are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I`m coming with you, of course!"

"But... Wha-... Why? I thought gatherings bored you?"

"Oh, they do. I love the kiddies, though, all for the children!" he said with obviously false excitement.

"You sound like a pedofile."

Both John and Sherlock failed to surpress a burst of laughter and Hamish`s remark, but John brought his outburst down quickly and scolded the boy. "I don`t want a call from the office about you using that kind of language at school, Hamish," he warned.

"Yes, Dad."

"Good."

Sherlock frowned. He wasn`t used to the authority and responsibility John showed now... _Things happen, Sherlock, people change!_ John`s words flashed in his mind as an automatic answer to his muddled thoughts. But no, he decided, John couldn`t have changed. He was John. He wasn`t allowed to change.

"Hamish! The bus! Faster!"

John was short for his age, Hamish was tall for his, and even with their burst of speed they were both running at close to the same pace. Sherlock sped ahead of them easily, and nearly jumped on the bus trying to stop it. Children on the bus gave the tall man odd looks, and hardly noticed as Hamish climbed the stairs with his head down and sat alone in the front seat. "Bye, Hamish!" called John, reaching the bus just as Sherlock backed away from the front of it. It drove away, the heads of the boys and girls turning as they all stared warily at Sherlock.

"Wow, Sherlock," John panted. "I never knew it was possible for you to be... responsible." He smiled proudly. Sherlock wanted to vomit. "Okay, then, well... I`m going to call a cab so I can go to the assembly, and... Yeah, just don`t destroy the flat while I`m out."

John stepped to the curb and attempted to hail a cab and Sherlock followed. "Don`t worry, I can`t destroy it if I`m not there."

John gave him a questioning look and he clarified, "I`m coming with you to the assembly."

"Oh... I, uh, I thought you were kidding... Well, now I know you`re up to something."

"It hurts to see how little faith you have in me, John," Sherlock lied easily. A cab pulled up and John slid in. Sherlock followed before he could close the door and John sighed, but gave the cabbie directions anyway. They sat in quietly for a few minutes before the silence was shattered by John`s sudden words.

"Okay, Sherlock, you`ve got to promise me you won`t do anything stupid, here, we`re going to a school," John told the man next to him, who was fidgeting already in his boredom, as the cab weaved through the streets of London.

"Yes, yes," he replied absent-mindedly, staring listlessly out of the window. "Are we there yet?"

"You tell me. You know London better than I do."

"I do, don`t I?" he muttered as he drummed his fingers on his leg. "Well, then, we`re almost there."

"Good boy."

He let out a small huff of laughter and watched the school grow closer and closer. It stood on top of a hill, made of red bricks and surrounded by a dirt lawn that was sprinkled with dusty brown tufts of dead grass. There were few windows, only about five or six near on the upper level, but they were tall and stood the length of the classrooms. One one side of the building the windows were covered with white plastic. Obviously under construction. These windows were longer, so the room was probably a gym or library.

"Thank you, sir, we`ll stop here," John told the cabbie as they reached the parking lot at the bottom of the hill. The cab stopped on at the edge of the parking lot and he and Sherlock climbed out, John handing money to the cabbie before he drove off. Farther off they could see the busses coming closer, and they hurried to the sidewalk with the other parents rushing to make it into the school before the assembly started. "I can already tell we`re not getting a seat..." John groaned.

Sherlock only shrugged in response, his mind elsewhere. Stoop shouldered, curly brown hair: the leader of the assassination group`s face burned in his exceptional mind, every mark and detail perfectly in place. He jumped as Mycroft seemed to appear out of thin air behind him. "Good morning, brother," Mycroft said with false politeness, swinging his umbrella on his first two fingers.

"What did he do?" John said out of habit.

Mycroft didn`t skip a beat as he caught Sherlock`s warning glance and let out an easy lie. "Nothing, this time. He`s just wanted me to come see the little..." His face fell as he tried to think of a good word to use. "Angel," he decided with a nervous giggle. It was the first time in ten years that he had ever been at a loss for words. Or giggled. He shuddered to think of what else the events of the day may force him to do.

Unknown to the parents, eight commonly dressed men in the crowd had not come to see their children, but instead waited for orders from the Prime Minister. Icy guns lay hidden in the pockets inside their jackets and jeans, not yet cocked but nonetheless ready for use.

John had been correct in saying that they wouldn`t get a seat. When they entered the auditorium-Through the front door, past the main office to the right then down the stairs, Sherlock noted carefully-there was hardly air to breathe with all the men and women packed in the tiny room. Both Mycroft and Sherlock were clearly uncomfortable. Sherlock hugged his coat closer to himself, flipping up the collar, though the un-airconditioned room was warm.

They stood near one of the two doors leading out to the Main Hallway, their view of the stage somewhat obscured, though there was no one on it yet. Just then, the crowd quieted down and those who had seats settled down into the them. John stood on tip-toe trying to see what was going on on the stage over the heads of the men standing in front of him, and caught fragmented visions of the principal by the microphone, straightening his tie, and the teachers of the school behind him, setting up a long row of chairs for themselves. Meanwhile, Mycroft checked the positions of his men in the audience. They had placed themselves in all four corners, the closest to Mycroft, he noticed, being the most experianced.

Sherlock, taller than most of the other adults, had no trouble seeing over the heads of the people in front of him. He scanned the line of teachers for the assassins. Two were missing. He whispered his observation to Mycroft, who nodded to show he had heard, but didn`t speak as everyone else had become silent to hear the principal give his speech.

* * *

The 'St. Edyn`s Badgers' tie that the teachers had handed out was tight on Hamish`s neck as he tried to loosen its choking hold. "No, no, Mister, you`ve got to keep that on to show your school spirit!" the student counselor piped. Her happiness was fake, obviously, like every other cheap-skate that was paid to like you. Hamish sighed in annoyance. His dress shirt was too stiff, his pants were too long, his tie was too tight-had this woman no sympathy? Clearly not, as she scampered away in her high heels without a second glance at the uncomfortable little boy.

He stood there in a state of sheer boredom as he waited for the preschoolers to be called out on stage to run up to the microphone, say their first and last names, then run off the other side of the stage where the assisstant counselor would be waiting to congratulate them on their wonderful, 5-10 second performance. He rolled his eyes at the thought, hating every bit of those counselor`s d**n 'pep'.

_Watson._ Hamish stood close to the back of the line as every second passed at an agonizingly slow pace. "T-thomas V-vinelli." He heard the thick stutter of Tom`s voice on stage then the bored applause of the audience. "Okay, okay, your turn Hamy," said the couselor as she swept Hamish on stage.

"My name is Hamish," he hissed back at her, then rushed up to the stage. The lights were bright, but Hamish could still see most of the audience. In the far corner he could see his dad and Sherlock. He smiled, until he realized that Sherlock looked tense. Dad was entirely oblivious of his fidgeting, but even from this far away Hamish could read his nervous body language. His dad opened his mouth and shouted something that Hamish didn`t understand, and he leaned forward trying to hear better. The principal cleared his throat and Hamish realized that he was standing a few feet away from the podium, motionless. Hamish rushed up, embarrassed, into the blinding light and said, "Hamish Watson," then climbed down from the podium. He blinked the spots of darkness from his eyes as he walked slowly to the other side of the stage to the wings. When his vision cleared, he looked at his dad and Sherlock. Sherlock was gone.

* * *

"Mycroft," Sherlock whispered harshly. Mycroft took his eyes off of the boy on stage who stood entirely motionless. "The leader of the group, over there, he just left."  
Mycroft looked to where the other door leading out of the auditorium was swinging shut. The janitor had slid out unnoticed to anyone but Sherlock and those stading near him. No, wait, Sherlock corrected his own thoughts. A few of the teachers noticed. He smiled.

"Sherlock, I`ve got to stay here, I can`t just leave eight of the assassins without supervis-"

"Come on, Hamy!" John shouted suddenly.

"It`s fine, I`ll go. John!" he said, turning to his friend. "Come on, we`ve got a criminal to pursue!"

Sherlock grabbed John`s arm and began to drag him out the door, but John stopped him, pulling back with strength Sherlock hadn`t known John possessed. "Wait, wait, Sherlock, what? I thought you said nothing stupid!"

"This isn`t stupid, this is exciting! Come on!" He tried to pull him again and, again, he failed.

"Sherlock, no! I can`t!" John sighed and put his hand over his mouth the way he did when he was thinking, then said, "Sherlock, I`ve grown older now."

"Oh, yeah, by six years. You must be a senior citizen by now."

"Hamish Watson," said a voice over the microphone.

John motioned with his hand to the stage. "I have a kid, Sherlock, and as much as I`d like to, I really can`t jump into life threatening situations anymore!"

"Sherlock, go!" said Mycroft sternly. "If you don`t leave now, you`re going to lose him!"

Sherlock`s eyes were glued to John`s face. He didn`t look angry or vengeful, just... hurt. He backed away, his steps jarring and awkward as he tried not to fall. "I`m sorry, Sherlock," said John, truly meaning it.

Sherlock ran from the auditorium.

* * *

"Good job, Hamy!" whispered the assisstant counselor as Hamish raced into the wings. He flipped her the bird as she turned her back, then ripped off his tie and pushed through the other preschoolers to the exit. Sherlock was just turning the corner to the Main Hallway when Hamish closed the stage door behind him.

Sherlock was running slower that usual, stepping in an odd pattern to keep his footsteps silent. He was entirely focused on pursuing the assassin, not even noticing the sound of Hamish tip-toing quickly behind him at a safe distance. The janitor walked at an urgent pace, close to running, but Sherlock managed to keep up. He marked the turns and hallways he took, following when the janitor turned a corner and pausing when he walked down a hallway, so as not to be seen. Hamish did the same, though without any knowledge of the assassin leader`s existance, set only on following Sherlock.

Sherlock knew from his memory that they were nearing the wing of the school that was under construction. Maybe that was their hideout or something. It wasn`t like anyone else used it. Finally the janitor stopped at a large door in the middle of the hall, looked around him swiftly, then slipped through the door. Without even stopping to think about it, Sherlock followed, his intense curiosity urging him on.

The room was dark and almost cavernous, with enormous bookshelves reaching up towards the cieling. The nails holding them to the ground lay on the floor in preparation for construction. Some of the plastic that had been torn from the windows blew around eerily, the wind carrying the scent of rain. There was no light, and the room was dim, as if in a state of twilight. Sherlock could here the janitor`s footsteps between the shelves and crept towards the noise.  
It was then that the massive doors slammed shut behind him.

* * *

Hamish watched Sherlock enter the library. Hamish had never been allowed to enter the library himself because of the high bookshelves' instability, and now saw a chance to both enter the library and be a spy! He was about to trail after Sherlock eagerly when suddenly his Language Arts teacher, Ms. Moirah, darted out from the other end of the hall and yanked the door shut. She pulled out her keys and locked it, then turned back the way she had come. With one last furtive glance around her, she was gone around the corner.

Hamish let out a breath he hadn`t realized he was holding, then rushed to the door and tried to push it back open. It didn`t budge, but he didn`t knock. If Sherlock knew Hamish had followed him he`d never let him in. No, he`d have to find another way. The closest way had been boarded up, but the only other way was in the direction that Ms. Moirah had taken. Were he caught, he`d be straight back into the auditorium with another complaint to Dad.

So he was careful. At every creak of the wooden floors, every breath of wind down the long hallway, he crouched and pressed himself to the wall. The best way he knew to get to the library now was through the door in the teacher`s lounge, which would be unlocked as the teachers had used this room to get ready for the assembly.  
The lounge was well lit, with a soda machine and a few thick couches around the room. Ms. Moirah was nowhere to be seen, but Hamish was still careful all the same. He stole to the door that led to the library and turned the handle-unlocked, thankfully-and opened it slowly, so it wouldn`t creak.

Hushed voices. That was the first thing Hamish heard as the door swung open. The exact words were unintelligible, as they ran together in the echoes of the room, but Hamish could tell there were two. Sherlock, obviously, was one of them, but Hamish didn`t recognize the other.

A broken down library-rather a strange place for a meeting, Hamish thought to himself, but an interesting one, at least. The door had led him to the corner of the room, opposite of the main doors. Hamish faced the front of an empty bookshelf, so close that he could see the dust that had accumulated on the shelves in the time that they had been empty. He edged closer to it so that he was concealed by the shadows of the wooden bookshelves but could still see the shadows of the two talking men that stood near the middle of the room, though that of the shorter, unknown man could not be seen as well from where he stood between the shelves. From his closer position, Hamish could hear the exact words exchanged.

It was the unknown man that spoke when Hamish perked his ears to listen.

"He said you were stupid, but I didn`t think he meant this stupid." The man had a rough, weathered voice, and his laugh was like sandpaper against wood. "Sherlock," he continued, "In your lifetime you have made two mistakes. Both of which have and will kill you"-another raspy, shaking laugh came here-"For real, this time."  
It was then that the man pulled something shining and metallic from his pocket. By the way he held it, Hamish could see the object`s shape clearly, and the rigid sideways 'L' shape was unmistakeable.

The gun was cocked, the sound loud and clear in the close to empty library.

* * *

Sherlock didn`t turn to look when the doors slammed shut behind him. He hadn`t heard footsteps, which would have been loud on the old wooden floors, and knew that no one had followed. As he stepped closer to the aisle between the bookshelves he had seen the janitor disappear into, the question of the motive swirled back into his head. _Why? Why? Why?_ He knew he was coming closer to the answer with each footstep.

The man stood with his back facing Sherlock in the shadows of the shelves. "Why hello, Sherlock!" he said cheerily. "I thought you`d come."

He was only slightly surprised, but still kept his face an emotionless mask. 'Never show weakness', he had been taught. Surprise was a weakness.

"Yes, you were a little harder to figure out than I would have first expected, but I had a little help," he said, covering for the small pause of indecision he had made.

"Oh, come now, that`s cheating," the hunched man said as though he were chastising a small child.

"Help? Help is cheating?"

"No, Sherlock." The man turned slowly, his hands behind his back. "Pretending you know what`s going on is cheating."

He was old and withered, hunch-backed, with dark skin and greasy black hair. He was definitely Spanish, though his accent had long faded from his lips.

Upon seeing his face, a name flashed to Sherlock`s mind. _Emilio._ It was as if he was still holding the file, scrolling down the background information with his eyes and remembering each detail he had read, as was his way.

"I don`t play 'pretend'," Sherlock told him finally. "I know exactly what`s going on."

"You do, do you?" Emilio was smiling with yellow teeth.

Sherlock returned the smile. "You and your nine colleagues have come to assassinate someone of great importance," he began instantly, his voice quick and his words precise. "You were probably paid to do it. Why else would you need ten assassin`s-not something personal, surely, or you would have done it yourself, maybe with one or two accomplices. So someone`s hired you. You`ve left because you knew I`d be here, which explains why you know my name, and you want to distract me. You knew I`d follow you, and I doubt you just wanted my company. You thought I`d be a threat. I am. But I`m not_ the_ threat. You lose. My brother will be here shortly after he`s taken your colleagues into custody to arrest you, along with his many, many experianced body guards-so don`t try anything."

Emilio laughed, a sound like sand-paper against wood. "Very good, very good, Sherlock. Just one problem." His smile melted. "You`re wrong," he snarled.

"Oh?"

Sherlock seemed unphased by the dramatic change of demeanor in the old man, which, Emilio thought, was unusual for any one of his targets. Most attempted to flee at this point, and to keep them from getting away, he would shoot them. This one just seemed... curious. But he would not let this break through his heartless facade. He showed his tobacco stained teeth in another grim smile. "Oh, yes, you`re definitely smart, I`ll give you that, but so _gullible_. I _have_ come to assassinate someone of great importance, you see, on the orders of a dead man. Does the name 'Moriarty' ring a bell?"

The change that overcame Sherlock`s face was priceless to the assassin. "Oh, I can see it does."

Finally something that could break through his target`s mask. Sherlock stammered, "How could you... he`s-"

"Yes, he`d dead, but he`s not gone. Death does not take away money, and if you`ve got money, you`ve got power. He`s got us."

"That`s impossi-"

"No it`s not!" Emilio rasped, his voice echoing in the dim room. "Jim was smart, Sherlock, he was a _genius_, and he wanted to be sure that you were dead. Even in death, he who has the power gets his way. Now, let _me_ explain to _you_. There are three assassins. There is me, a blonde woman called Lucinda, and Gabe. We got a letter from someone named Sebastian Moran, said that if we hunted you down, all Moriarty left out of his will would go to us. We didn`t know him personally, no, but we`d heard whispers. The smartest man in the world, the genius with the key to open any door, the Consulting Criminal. Long story short, he gave us instructions, we followed them down to every comma, period, dash. We set the trap, and you walked right into it."

"I... I don`t..."

"Yes, Jim was very thorough. He said in the notes he left that your mind may have trouble stretching enough to process this new information."

He looked with annoyance at the still-confused expression on Sherlock`s face. "Oh, don`t you _get _it?!" he finally shouted. "We`ve been watching you! From the moment you jumped from the building till the day you returned to John! We`ve watched your brother, followed him, got on his_ good_ side, and _we_ gave him the assignment! Ten assassins! Ha! Seven were _teachers_! Your powerful brother and his 'many, many experianced body guards' are in there waiting for _teachers_ to attack!

"Oh, this is too _good_, Sherlock. Moriarty said you were stupid, but I didn`t think he meant _this_ stupid!" he cackled. Suddenly he stopped and the smile dropped from his face. "Sherlock, in your lifetime you have made two mistakes. Both of which have and will kill you." He gave a last raspy, shaking laugh. "For real, this time."

From his janitor`s smock, Emilio pulled out a shining black revolver, polished to an obsessive degree. Sherlock lurched back, putting a leg behind him to steady himself. The sound of the gun being cocked echoed in the bleak room as the assassin leveled the point between Sherlock`s eyes. Three hearts beat quickly in the darkness, one from the adrenaline of the hunt and kill, one from his own impending doom, and one from fear of what he was about to do.

"Sherlock!"

Hamish rammed his shoulder into the nearest bookshelf and watched as the rest fell like dominos. Emilio fired a bullet in Hamish`s general direction and he ducked as it smashed through the high glass window. "John?!" Sherlock called.

The room was in such chaos in those three seconds that only one who noticed the bookshelves crash down onto Emilio was Emilio himself.

As the dust cleared, Sherlock raced to where the shelves had first begun to topple. "John? John?" he called out to his friend. It was only when he looked to the ground that all the facts fell into place. Hamish Watson was huddled on the floor, hands over his head and surrounded by the shards of broken glass. "Hamish?" Sherlock said softly.  
The four year-old boy looked up with eyes shining with adrenaline. "Holy s**t..." he muttered. "That was awesome..."

He didn`t get up even when the doors to the library burst open. Sherlock didn`t move either. "Sherlock!" John`s voice called.

His short figure appeared from the settling dust, following closely by Mycroft and his body-guards. They held a struggling woman who must`ve been Lucinda in their arms, hand-cuffed. "Hamish?!" John almost screamed, and ran to pick up the little boy.

"No! Dad! I`m not a baby!" he protested.

"Oh, my God! Hamish! What the hell has happened, here?!" John cried, holding Hamish in his arms.

Sherlock ignored him entirely and turned to Mycroft. "The leader, Emilio, he`s under the bookshelves. Probably dead."

A few body-guards rushed to retrive the assassin leader. "There were only three, Mycroft. The third one isn`t here, his name is Gabe and-"

"Gabe?!" Mycroft gasped. "But he`s in my office! He`s with Anthea! We`ve got to inform someone immediatley!"

As he pulled out his phone, another cell phone in the room buzzed as someone sent a text. Mycroft and Sherlock looked up, only to see Lucinda drop her phone into the shards of glass. "Oops," she said.

'_Run_' was the only word on the screen, sent to Gabriel from her contacts.

Mycroft looked back down to his phone and quickly sent out texts to everyone in his office and anywhere near it, hoping to catch the third assassin though knowing it was of no use trying.

"Okay, well... We really should get out of here before everyone else comes to inspect the noise," Sherlock suggested.

"Agreed," said Mycroft and John in unison. John picked held Hamish tighter and Mycroft motioned to his guards, and they all quickly made their way from the school. After getting past the doors and avoiding the mass of teachers that had rushed towards the library, each went their seperate way. Mycroft slipped into a vehicle that had been waiting for his return, while John hailed a cab.

Looking over John`s shoulder at Sherlock, Hamish gave a quick but proud smile. For once, Sherlock returned it easily, without a doubt.

* * *

Miles away from the school, deep in the mansion of the Prime Minister, Gabriel Moriarty`s phone buzzed with an incoming message.

_Run._

* * *

_**A/N:** Sorry that took so long. I`ve been writing two at once, though I`m not going to post my new one until I finish this. We lost a follower, but gained a favorite-er... favoriter? He Who Claims This Story as Their Favorite. Yeah, that works. But anyway, He Who Claims This Story as Their Favorite, you have an awesome soul :) _

_On a lower note, I can`t post the next chapter until Sunday next week because of testing in my school. :( So sorry, guys (and girls). So much studying, homework, etc... But anyway, send me some reviews if you can see room for improvement. Constructive critism (hehe big word...) would be awesome, and I`m open to some ideas if you want to give them. I`ll try to fit in ideas wherever possible before we get to the main part of the story, and afterwards, too. Just be serious, though -_- No 'Sherlock and Hamish meet rainbow ponies on their magical adventurez'. _

_So, thanks, and until next Sunday, get a job, pet a kitten, and change the world. :D_

_-SS_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**_ I`m sorry that took so long! We have testing in our school, and I`m starting a new story, too, so I`ve been really busy lately! All you Junior High kids complaining about too much homework, enjoy it while you can! _

_Also, I`ve realized my terrible mistake: I am now aware that Harry and Clara were meant to be together. I just learned this and I am so sorry! I now understand completely why I lost a follower._

_I`ve just learned of the existance of disclaimers, so I`m going to add one of those now. Ready? 'Kay? Gonna do it... Now!_

**Disclaimer:**_ I don`t own Sherlock, John, or Harry. They belong to the Holy Ones, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. Praise be unto them. *bows* _

* * *

Miles away from the school, deep in the mansion of the Prime Minister, Gabriel Moriarty`s phone buzzed with an incoming message.

**Run.**

* * *

Hamish Watson tramped through the doors of the flat weary, but nonetheless pleased with himself. He fingered the gun in his coat pocket as he waited for Sherlock to join him inside. "Who is it?!" screeched Ms. Rill.

"It`s just me, Ms. Rill," Hamish shouted back.

"I don`t know who 'me' is!"

"Stop shouting! It`s Sherlock and Hamish, Ms. Rill!" called his father from upstairs before Hamish could respond.

"Oh... Okay! That`s fine, then." Her voice trailed off as she slipped back into sleep. Hamish gazed down into the basement, hands in his pockets, wondering if Ms. Rill was the only one in the basement. There was certainly more noise and thumping around the flat than usual, but it came from upstairs. The curiousity was killing him, but he chose to wait for Sherlock.

The tall man strode through the door shortly afterwards, imploring more shouting between Ms. Rill and Sherlock before John`s yelling-explanations shut them both up. "That was bloody tedious," Sherlock grumbled as he took the stairs two at a time. "Next time someone says 'It can`t have been an accident', they`re getting thrown out of a window."

Hamish nodded. In the depths of Sherlock`s boredom, the three occupants of the flat had interviewed what must`ve been a thousand cases deemed 'too boring' for the fidgety detective. Finally they had accepted a case from a elderly woman convinced that her husband`s death was no accident, though the husband proved to be an uninteresting old man who had never learned to swim.

Suddenly something crashed to the floor in the flat atop the stairs.

"Dad, who`s that upstairs?!" Hamish shouted from the bottom of the steps.

"Well, come up and see!"

"Oh, God..." muttered Sherlock. "This can`t be good."

The unrecognizable noises turned into screams and shouts as Sherlock and Hamish reached the top of the stairs. Before either of them could open the door, it swung open from the other side to reveal two little girls and a boy, and an older woman behind them. The girls squealed, every one of them, while the boy pressed himself to the door in a feeble attempt to avoid getting trampled as they rushed out. The older woman hugged Hamish tightly, which, growing up with two men, Hamish had come to hate. He pushed away, though she didn`t seem to notice. "Hamy! Oh, it`s been so _long_! I`ve missed you!" she said, holding his hands in hers.

"Uhm..."

"Hamish? Don`t you remember? It`s me, Aunt Harry!"

"Oh, right... Aunt Harry..." Faint recognition came to his mind, a memory of a woman he had last seen at the house sobbing about her drinking problem (he could see by her bony fingers and the slight tremor in her hands that it had been quite a big problem, at that) and the second baby on the way... This could not be Aunt Harry.

"Well, it`s... um, it`s good to see you," he said finally.

"And of course you remember Thomas-say hi, Tommy!"

Thomas, a dark haired boy around the age of fifteen, strode over to Hamish and held out a hand for him to shake. As their hands locked, he pulled him into an awkward hug. "If you call me anything by Tom, I swear I will hurt you," Thomas-_Tom_-muttered in his ear, squeezing the younger boy`s hand until it was numb. Tom stepped back from the hug, leaving Hamish nursing his hand.

"And I Annie! I Annie!" said the littlest girl. "I your cousin! That`s what Mommy was saying!"

"I`m," corrected Sherlock, who had been watching the display of affection with cold, disgusted eyes.

"I`m Samantha," said the girl about Hamish`s age. She gave him a brisk hand shake. "It`s nice to meet you."

"Uh, right... Um, Dad?" Hamish called, pushing past his relatives.

"Oh, hey, Hamish!" said John cheerfully as he typed away on the sofa.

"Dad, _why_ are they here?!" he whispered harshly, leaning in so he wouldn`t be heard.

"They`re here because they`re family, Hamish," he said sweetly, then added in a low whisper, "_And_ because I told you not to sneak off with Sherlock yesterday night! I had to call to tell your school that you were sick!"

"So? It`s school. It`s _boring_."

"Well, since you have some free time, why don`t you go outside and play with your cousins while me and Aunt Harry catch up."

"Dad!" Hamish whined.

"Bye bye!" John gave a tiny wave.

Hamish snatched his jacket from the couch. "Fine!" he hissed and stormed from the flat.

* * *

"Ooh! Candy! Candy!" Annie squealed, jumping up and down as she saw the sign on the side of the road. They were about four blocks from the flat, searching in the nearby shops and boutiques on Samantha`s suggestion for something to do. Tom was entirely into it, watching the girls in the stores with hungry eyes.

"A candy store?" groaned Hamish. It wasn`t that he hated candy-he actually loved it-but he recognized the cashier behind the counter as one that did not exactly favor him...

"We don`t have to go if you don`t want," Samantha offered.

"What?" Hamish snapped out of his thoughts. "Oh, right. No, it`s fine. Why don`t you guys meet me back here in, like, thirty minutes?"

"Okay!" squeaked Annie, then raced into the shop. Samantha ambled after her, feeling in her coat pockets for money.

"Aren`t you going?"

"No," scoffed Tom. "Candy stores are for babies."

"Oh. Well, meet in half an hour, then."

"Whatever."

_At least I tried._ Hamish gave a mental shrug.

Christ, this was boring. Dragging around three chatty kids he`d never met before... It was worse than a grounding. He wandered around London alone for the next twenty minutes, sifting through the book shop for about half of that time, before finally returning to the candy store and all but collapsing on the bench. As people passed by him, he attempted to 'deduce' them as Sherlock had taught him, but could only come up with a few things that he wasn`t even sure were right. Ignoring everything Sherlock had taught him, he instead focused on the body language, a practice that came much easier to him.

_Late for a meeting, just broke up with girlfriend, having a fancy dinner parents-in-law._ Hamish ticked off aspects of people`s current lives in his head as they passed. As he searched for someone else to 'read', he noticed a boy and girl talking, flirting, by the look of it, from the corner of his eye. The boy was familiar to him, and he shifted his focus to the boy and girl interestedly. He smiled, watching his dark-haired cousin fail miserably at his attempt to talk to the pretty blonde girl. Even from the opposite side of the street, Hamish could see from the shifting of Tom`s feet that he was having a bit of trouble charming her. Meanwhile, the girl smiled and laughed as though she was enjoying his company, though clearly she wasn`t. By her stance and the noticeble fidgeting of her fingers by her skirt pocket where her cellphone lay, stubbournly refusing to ring, she was only trying to make her nearby ex-boyfriend jealous. Hamish looked around, quickly locating the tall boy staring at the two, his face red with rage.

Hamish hated Tom, really, but the least he could do was help him before he got his a** kicked. "Tom!" he called. Tom tensed slightly, but pretended not to hear his name. Hamish rolled his eyes and, looking both ways, raced across the street. "Tom," he tried again, catching up to him.

Tom`s jaw clenched, then slackened. "Who are you?" he questioned his cousin.

"Seriously? Whatever. I just wanted to tell you that even if you try she`s not going to go out with you because she`s just trying to make her ex over there jealous."

"What?!" she gasped.

"Why, you little-"

"And if you don`t lay off he`s probably going to beat you into a pulp."

"I`m going to-"

"Just saying..."

He was growling, like some overly-expressive cartoon character. The girl`s face was bright red, and she finally flipped her hair out of her face and walked away with a 'humph'! "Wait, Natasha!"

She pretended not to hear Tom`s desperate pleas as she disappeared into the crowd. Tom turned slowly to Hamish.

"You lost me that girl, Hamish..." he growled. Before the thirteen year old boy could protest, Tom pointed a finger at his chest and yelled, "You LOST me that GIRL!"

Hamish gave a yelp as he avoided the outstretched hands of his cousin and fled. "Come here, you!" Tom roared.

Hamish raced across the road and past his two younger cousins as they came out of the candy shop. "Hamish?"

Samantha cried before Tom pushed past her.

Hamish weaved through the crowds, thankful for his own speed, though he saw a busy road approaching in front of him. There was no way to avoid it, so he turned into a nearby alleyway. He ran to the farthest, darkest end and stood there panting, praying that he`d lost Tom. _Please, please, please,  
_

"_Hamy_!" called a sing-song voice. _Crap.  
_

Tom`s wild eyes appeared around the edge of the alley, glinting with malice. Hamish bit his lip as he neared, suddenly noticing the bulging muscles beneath his jacket. "All day," Tom growled. "All day, I have been looking for some ***king _amusement_ around this dumb city-just something to do for the next three weeks that I`m stuck here. I found something, and you scared it away. You scared it away, you little s***!"

He grabbed Hamish by the collar of his jacket and jerked him up into the air. Hamish held on to Tom`s hand, trying to keep himself from being choked by his own clothing. "Let`s me go! I`ll-"

"You`ll what? You`ll hit me? You`ll tell your daddy?" Tom mocked him. Hamish held back tears as dark spots danced in his vision. He was completely helpless in the ever-tightening hands of an adrenaline fueled teenager. _Wait_, he realized. Not completely helpless.

He giggled through Tom`s grip. "What`s so funny?!" Tom raged. "What`s so funny?!" Tom shook him, but Hamish kept the almost crazed smile on his face as he took his own hands off of Tom`s. He reached into his pocket to feel the cool metal of the gun.

He wouldn`t shoot him, of course. The whole reason he had gotten into this mess was because he was trying to keep the idiot from getting beat up. But he was not averse to adding fear to Tom`s swirl of emotions.

Tom threw Hamish to the ground screaming in sheer terror. Unflinching, Hamish stood and pointed the gun to Tom`s throat watching the sweat break out on his face with relish. He could already feel bruises forming on his neck and shoulder, although Tom p**sing his pants would make up for it entirely, he consoled himself. "I-I could outrun you!" Tom shouted.

"Do you really want to take that chance?" he asked with a smirk. Tom paled. "Now, voice down, hands behind your back, and get on the ground."

Hamish wasn`t exactly sure where he was going with this. In all honesty, he was only hoping that he could keep Tom from movement until he was away from the alley with a good head start. He had just began to back away when he heard the voices. "They ran over this way, Mum, I sawed them." Annie`s voice echoed clearly as she neared the alley way. Hamish had just enough time to jam the gun in his pocket as Aunt Harry, Samantha, Annie, and John appeared at the mouth of the alley. "In there!" John said, spotting them. "What`s going on in here?"

"Mom!" Tom screamed and raced from the shadows. Harry met him half way and got on her knees to hug him.

"What`s wrong Tommy, what`s wrong?" she cooed as he sobbed onto her shoulder.

He babbled incoherantly as he tried to get his emotions under control, meanwhile, John ran to his son. "Hamish? Hamish, what happened here?" he whispered, crouching down to Hamish`s height.

"Thank goodness you came, Tom was-"

"He tried to kill me, that`s what!" Tom screeched finally.

"What?!" John gasped.

"No, Dad, I-"

"Don`t try to deny it! He had a gun! He`s still got it! Feel in his pockets!" Tom blubbered.

"Wait, Dad! It`s-"

It was too late. John`s eyes widened slowly as he pulled the already cocked gun from his eight year old`s pocket. "Hamish..."

"He was going to shoot me! He had it pointed at my neck and-and..."

Harry squeezed him tightly. "Come on, baby, let`s go back to the flat and get you cleaned up," she said, leading him away.

"Dad..."

"I don`t want to hear it, Hamish. This is just... You went too d*** far!" John took a deep breath. "Come on, we`re going back to the flat."

* * *

Min had been found over three years ago, living under the bed, and now sat on a desk by the door of the room that Hamish and his father shared (they had separate sides of the room, of course, and two different beds). Hamish watched her with a listless gaze as the moon crossed the sky, hands behind his head, waiting for the low murmur of voices in the living room to cease so he could learn his fate. D*** it, he couldn`t take it anymore. He climbed out of his bed, stepping around the edges of the room so that the floor wouldn`t creak, and pressed his ear to the door.

Sherlock`s low voice was nothing more than a growl as he persisted, "You haven`t even heard his side of the story! You can`t have a one-sided case, it just doesn`t get the right results!"

"Sherlock, I don`t care what his story is! He had a gun in his pocket, and how else would Tom have known about it. You didn`t see that boy! He looked like he`d seen Death! Hamish has to go somewhere with a _good_ influence-not one that trusts him with a freaking loaded _gun_!"

"John-"

"No. No, he`s got to go. I love him. I can`t let him get hurt... I know where I`m sending him already, Harry suggested it. It`ll be perfect for him, and he can always come back over Christmas and the Summer."

Sherlock was silent, then finally said, "Where?"

"Wilhiem Boarding School. I know it`s a desperate measure, but... it`s the only way he can turn out... right."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Reviews? Please? _Please?_ Just so you know, we still only have one Favoriter, but I love all of your faces anyway. That`s right, reader. You are a beautiful soul. (I found that written on the wall of a bathroom stall once... awkward...) Anyway, I`ll stop rambling. I`ll have the next one by next week! __**Sneak peak:**__ John wasn`t the only one with kids in the world of Sherlock..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Nothing. None of it belongs to me, and if it does, I`m too lazy to list it.

* * *

_Sherlock was silent, then finally said, "Where?"_

_ "Wilhiem Boarding School. I know it`s a desperate measure, but... it`s the only way he can turn out... right."_

* * *

The suitcase was heavy even as Hamish dragged it on the ground on its rusty wheels. He could hear the slight jingling of Min`s cage in his case, and hoped he was the only one that heard-pets weren`t allowed at Wilhiem, and Dad wouldn`t even attempt to get them to make an exception for him. So, Min would have to wait in the dark suitcase for the next half hour while he, his father, and Sherlock said their good byes.

The doors to Wilhiem were wide open, and two men in dark suits were already waiting to lead Hamish to his dorm room. "Dad, please, don`t make me leave," Hamish begged one last time.

John almost snapped right there and took him home. The hurt in his son`s voice was real. _Why not get rid of Sherlock?_ ventured a voice in his head. _Hamish is your son, for Christ`s sake!_

Somehow, in the confines of his own mind, John was able to argue back, _If you didn`t do it, he`d find a way to get hurt. He`d meet with Sherlock or something... get himself killed, somehow..._ He looked down at Hamish, seeing Rene`s dark brown hair and her glowing green eyes in him... And the long stride... He moved his gaze ahead of himself again, before he could cave in.

"Hello, Mr. Watson. I`ll take your baggage and lead you to your room." The shorter of the two men held out his hand expectantly, but Hamish pulled the suitcase back.

"I`ll carry it, thank you," he said, watching their reactions carefully. Like all the other idiots of the world, neither noticed his nervous body language, and allowed him to carry his own rat-infested bag. The first room they passed was the Great Hall, immediatly inside the doors. It looked like an auditorium, but with lunch tables lined around it for the students who seemed to be in the middle of lunch. They became silent as their newest student entered with the four men, all giving him odd looks. Hamish shoved his free hand in his pocket and struck his best 'cool and collected' look. The stares followed him as he was led into the NE Corridor.

"Okay, Mr. Watson. Our school is organized into four corridors and the Great Hall. The NE Corridor is for the gentlemen while the NW Corridor is for the ladies. You will share a dorm with two other boys of the same age as you, and will remain in this dormitory for the rest of this year. The East and West Corridors are where your classes are located, and you will recieve a map once Orientation in finished. The Great Hall is where your meals are served, and you will also recieve a schedule later on. At night, Hall Monitors are posted in the Great Hall just in case you get any ideas-"

"He`s thirteen!" protested John.

"These ones start early."

John pulled a disgusted face and Sherlock stifled laughter as the man continued. "If you require help, the Great Hall also houses the office at all times. You have until dinner at seven to unpack and thirty minutes to say your good byes. Enjoy your time at Wilheim Academy."

The tall man hadn`t spoken the entire time, and when it came time to leave he only nodded and followed the shorter man out of the room. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Honestly, have you sent him to a prison, John? 'Enjoy your time at Wilheim Academy,'" he recited in a robotic voice. John and Hamish laughed, despite the situation.

"Okay, okay, we only have thirty minutes so let`s make them count," John said, calming his laughter. "Do you want us to help you unpack?"

Hamish shook his head, thinking of Min stashed away in his suit case. "Alright, then. You`ve brought your cell phone, right?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He wouldn`t let his father or Sherlock hear his voice crack. If he was being abandoned, he`d be abandoned with dignity.

John handed him two slips of paper. "The first one is my number and the other is Sherlock`s if you ever need us. Okay?"

Hamish nodded, blinking quickly as he tried to clear the tears from his eyes without success. The first few rolled down his cheek. Seeing this, John pulled him into a strong hug, breathing heavily as he tried to stop tears-successfully, this time.

_Maybe there was a better way to keep him safe,_ John thought desperately. _Maybe, maybe, maybe... Maybe my weak will will end up getting my son killed_, he chastised himself.

"Hamish," he said finally, feeling the seconds tick past. "I know this is hard for you. I know this is tough." Inhale, exhale, inhale. "But remember what I`ve taught you, Hamish. I brought you up to be strong, and Sherlock`s got you thinking rationally and deductively and all that other sciency s*** he does. This is where you need to use those skills. You`ve got to be strong, okay?"

One last strong embrace and he turned away. "I`m going to"-his voice cracked, here-"I`m going to just... wait in the car. I love you, Hamish."

Hamish wouldn`t open his mouth for fear of wailing like a toddler lost in a department store, but he knew his dad understood. The door closed softly and Hamish was left alone with Sherlock. No words were exchanged at first. Sherlock grabbed the eight year old`s small hand and squeezed it-more contact between them than ever before-and nodded. "Be rational," Sherlock said, then added, "And all that other sciency s***."

Hamish gave a teary smile, and the tall man returned it slightly, then left. As the first heavy tears began to fall, Hamish locked the oaken doors.

This was one of the many times that he did not wish to be disturbed.

* * *

Hamish woke up with his face pressed into a tear-wetted pillow and looked around blearily. At first he didn`t recognize the large room. He noted the three red-sheeted beds and the dressers and nightstands. He marked that he was in the bed farthest from the window and closest to the bathrooms. The beds had tall poles that nearly touched the cream-colored cieling. Overall the room had quite a regal air to it. He looked up at the black digital clock that read 6:30. He`d been asleep for awhile...

The memories rushed back to him with lightning speed. He had thirty minutes to get unpack entirely! As he threw bundles of clothing into the dresser drawers and dumped his books onto the desks, he faintly remembered an incessant pounding on the door as he was drifting off into sleep. _Great, and I`ve already p***ed of my room-mates, too!_ he thought cynically.

He took out Min`s cage carefully to find a safe if not somewhat ticked off rat glaring at him from behind the bars.

Though he was terrible at mimicking Sherlock`s deductions, Hamish could at least tell from the smell in the room that one of the two boys that would stay with him had also brought some sort of rodent, so he figured Min was safe enough for this year.

For the next twenty five minutes before lunch, Hamish took Min out of her cage and played with her tail nervously. He had been accepted well enough at his old school, but without a nurturing, talkative mother to teach him he had quickly fallen back into the boyish habit of only speaking with his friends. Now it was a strenuous effort to even start a conversation with someone he hadn`t met before. A bell rang out from somewhere high up in the school, and he took that to be the Dinner Bell. He replaced Min back in her cage on the night stand and, after a few deep breaths, made his way to the Great Hall.

The food choices were much better than those from his own school, but the lines moved at an achingly slow pace.

Those few hesitative breaths had cost him a good spot in line, and all the other children had already raced to the front leaving him close to the very end. The only kid behind him was a boy probably Hamish`s age with curly black hair and pinched lips. The overall look of him reminded Hamish remarkably of Min. Noticing his stare, the boy smiled. "Hey, there, haven`t seen you around. You new?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"I`m Leroy. Leroy Anderson. What`s your name?"

"Hamish Watson."

Leroy took him by the shoulder and gave him a brisk handshake, turning as he did. "Well, it was great meeting you. Hope you have a great time at Wilhiem!" he said kindly. He had already paid and collected his change before Hamish realized Leroy had cut him in line. D*** it.

"Money?"

Hamish reached into his empty pockets and wished he had his gun back-but even he had opted against sneaking a gun in. He looked over to where Leroy sat to see him and his other friends snickering where the sat. Hamish narrowed his eyes and turned back to the lunch lady. "My lunch money seems to have disappeared, but-"

"No money, no food."

"But-"

"Next!"

"There`s not even anyone behind me!"

"Then it looks like I`m leaving early today."

He gave her a look of exasperation, meanwhile looking her up in down for some sort of secret he could use against her.

All he could see was a bored old woman who could barely afford to keep her apartment in central London. Nothing to help there.

"I could just go grab my money in my dorm, it`s just over there!" Hamish decided on his plan quickly, pointing to the NE Corridor. Thankfully, she followed his pointing finger even though she already knew what he was pointing to. Idiot. He shoved a suran wrapped sandwich into his pocket before she turned to face him again.

"No time. Bring money tomorrow. You`ll survive."

"Fine!" he finished angrily, smiling inwardly as he fingered the plastic wrappings in his pocket and stomped away from the counter.

Lunch was half over when he finally made it out of the line, and all the tables for his grade were packed, excluding one. Eww... The only person sitting at that table was a girl... _Cooties,_ he shuddered. With one last, desperate look for an open seat, he finally sat down across from the lonely girl. Her hair was short-not boy short, more shoulder length-and a pale red. In addition, she wore a worn leather jacket and a few shiny necklaces. She was pretty, he decided. A bit odd in her style, though. She looked up as he set his tray down, giving him a questioning glance. "What? Did you lose a bet?" she said sarcastically, pushing her half-eaten pizza around with a fork.

When he spent too long trying to think of a decent response besides reading her body language out loud, she interjected, "I wouldn`t recommend sitting here. Your social status is falling rapidly as we speak."

"Um... why?"

She sighed. "What`s your name?" she said, changing the subject to something easier for Hamish to work with.  
"Hamish Watson. Who are you?"

"I`m the school Nutter, nice to meet you."

Hamish raised his eyebrows. "How about a real name?"

"Why? 'Nutter`s' all you`re going to hear me called, here."

"I`d still like to know your name," Hamish said, trying not to sound pushy. She rolled her eyes.

"Soni."

"That`s a bit of an odd, is that your real name..." He trailed off at the glare she gave him, then cleared his throat to say, "Last name?"

"Moriarty. And no, my real name is Sonia. Don`t call me Sonia, though. I hate that name."

"Oh. Right. So, your last name... it sounds French."

"I`m Irish."

"I know. Accent. Just saying that it sounds French," he muttered awkwardly.

She shrugged and went back to staring at her plate. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Hamish finally asked, "Why do people call you 'Nutter', anyway?"

"You really want to know?" she drawled.

Hamish nodded and she turned her piercing green eyes to him. She stared for thirty seconds before taking a deep breath and saying, "You`re dad sent you here even though he didn`t want to, judging by the state of your clothes. You obviously didn`t want to come here, because, like everyone else, you`re overly attatched to your parents and your blood shot eyes show that you`ve been crying for awhile. You have a rat, and you brought it here secretly. You don`t know you mother well, she left a while ago, and the only reason you`re sitting here is because there were no other seats. You think I have cooties," she finished, smirking expectantly.

"That it?" I challenged. "You`ve been here for a long time-this isn`t your first year-and you`ve got secrets, too. By the looks of it you didn`t have a motherly figure in your life, either, but you looked up to your father-'looked' in past tense, may I stress. You`re anxious because you`re no longer following my train of thought and... something else. You want to be friends. You don`t want to screw up this conversation, but you also don`t want to let your guard down because you`ve been bullied a lot. Your hoping that I`ll accept your weird habits, in fact, your desperate for me to accept them because you have _zero_ friends."

Soni swallowed tensely. "Touche..."

The bell rang, and Hamish looked down morosely at his unfinished meal. "They`ll let you stay to finish it," Soni told him, then shuffled uncomfortably for a second before taking out a drawing pad, flipping through a few of her creations, then jotting down a few words on the sheet of paper. She handed him the slip. "We have to go back to our dorms now, but text me."

She smiled and walked away. Her stride was one of excitement. There was potential for a friendship, though he knew if he became friends with her she would probably be his only friend. Watching the idiot children of Wilhiem laugh and snort at retarded jokes, allowing their dull brains to feed from the senseless 'humour', he was kind of okay with that...

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Stayed up all night writing this so I could post it Sunday morning. Super tired. Super addicted to . XD Enjoy! Please disregard grammatical and spelling errors caused by lack of sleep-reviews always welcome!_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: READ! IMPORTANT!** Okay, I`ve finally started planning my stories but... I kind of changed Hamish`s age. Please don`t hurt me! He`s thirteen now. I changed it in the previous chapters, too, for all the new comers, but if you see an error about his age either tell me or ignore it. This is the last huge change I`m making, and I`ve finally got the entire thing planned out._

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. If only...

* * *

_She smiled and walked away. Her stride was one of excitement. There was potential for a friendship, though he knew if he became friends with her she would probably be his only friend. Watching the idiot children of Wilhiem laugh and snort at retarded jokes, letting their dull brains feed off of the senseless 'humour', he was kind of okay with that..._

* * *

Hamish`s room mates were waiting expectantly when he returned.

"Oh, joy! Lookie who our new room mate is!" Leroy Anderson sneered.

Hamish rolled his eyes. "You took my lunch money, you twit," Hamish accused.

Leroy smiled sympathetically. "Oh, don`t look at me like that-and calling names is mean," he pouted. "I was just helping you, teaching you the ropes. If I didn`t do it, someone else would`ve. Better you learn now, don`t you think?"

"No."

"Well, then, I guess we`ll all have to find some other way to bond."

Hamish rolled his eyes, then noticed the other boy lounging on the chair in the corner playing on an iPhone. He was fat-there was no sugar-coating it-the boy was huge. "Who`s he?" Hamish asked, pointing.

"Oh, so _now_ you want my help?"

Hamish glared at Leroy before the large boy behind him spoke up, "My name`s Alex."

"Well, come on over here, Dimmock. Give those legs some exercise!" Leroy encouraged him.

"Oh, shut up you great a***," Alex growled. Still, he set his iPhone on the dresser and pushed himself with great effort (it took him a couple tries) to his feet. As he lumbered over to the new student he couldn`t stop himself from breathing loudly from his mouth. He held out a sweaty hand to Hamish who, still following the customs of his old home, refused to take it. Annoyed with the strenuous efforts that had all been in vain, he threw himself onto the middle bed of the dorm. Hamish winced at the loud, creaking protests of the wooden frame.

"Well, pleasure to meet you, then," said Hamish with false cheer, then went to organize his belongings. The silence of the room, normally comforting at the flat, made him uneasy here. He straightened Min`s cage then peered over his shoulder to see Leroy and Alex whispering together. They noticed Hamish watching and shifted so that they would be harder to hear from where the new student stood. Hamish raised an eye brow, but continued to move and order his things.

After awhile, after he was left with nothing else to do, Hamish fell into his bed, realizing suddenly how tired he was. He was just drifting off into a much needed rest when he felt a hand roughly shake him awake. "What?" he grumbled.

"Wake up! Come on, we`re going to be late!"

"What the hell it`s like two in the morning..." Hamish muttered into his pillow.

Someone slapped him and he bolted up, searching for a target to glare at. Finally he found Alex with his hand still in the air and attempted to shoot lasers at him with his eyes. "Good, you`re up." said Leroy. "Come on, we`ve got people waiting on us."

"Wait, what? Wait a second I`m still in my pajamas!" Hamish protested as Alex and Leroy dragged him into the hallway.

"Quit your whining! It`ll only take a minute."

The corridor was dark and quiet. In the dim light that seeped from under his door, Hamish could see a few other boys with glittering eyes squatting on the carpet. Most were around his age, though one or two seemed older. "Who are you guys?" Hamish said. He was met with 'shhh!' and 'keep it down!' piled on top of angry glares.

"You`ve got to whisper or the Monitor`s will hear you!" Alex said softly. "Now sit down and listen up, we`ve got something to tell you!"

"_I`ve_ got something to tell you. Eight ye-"

"Can`t I just go back to bed? Let`s do this tomorrow," Hamish suggested tiredly, rubbing his eyes.

The boys snickered. "Of course we can`t do it tomorrow!" Leroy scoffed in a whisper. "The Challenge must be done on the first night!"

"The Challenge? What`s that supposed to be?"

"Well if you`d _listen_ you`d _know_." Leroy crossed his arms impatiently, the boys behind him doing the same like robots. It was unnerving.

"Okay, fine, tell me," said Hamish boredly, hiding his growing anxiety.

"No interruptions?"

"No interruptions."

"Good. Now, as I was saying..." He cleared his throat loudly, sending echoes down the hall and drawing all eyes in the corridor to himself. "Eight years ago, my brother first came to Wilhiem Academy at the age of twelve. He was a quick learner, discovering the ways of the school faster than anyone was able to tell him, and soon he was surrounded by friends. These friends, however, were weak-willed, with only some truly willing or able to risk everything for him. So, he had to find a way to test their loyalty. Thus, the Challenge was created. Each of his friends would take or turn down the challenge-those who turned it down were his enemies, but those who accepted it had hope. The acceptors would then sneak into the Great Hall to retrieve a jumper left there during dinner. It was put on the handles of the entrance door. Those fit or smart enough to avoid the Hall Monitors and get back to the dorm without being caught were immediatly and unquestionably accepted into the group. He did this for each boy that wanted to be his friend for all of his years here-and eventually this custom was passed down to me.

"Now, here is where you come into the equation. It would be a shame if you of all people, sharing a room with two challengers already, were to turn out as an enemy. You already have a great oppurtunity, here. I saw you sitting with the Nutter today-"

"She`s not a Nutter! Her name`s-"

"I don`t care. No interruptions! Now, I saw you sitting with... that _girl_, if you must, during lunch today. Sharing a room with me, though, you could do so much better! Just take the challenge, Hamish. You could have popularity within a day of being in the Academy!" Leroy finished with reverence.

Hamish stared at him in disbelief. "You`re kidding, right?" He giggled, waiting for the other boys to burst out laughing with him. He paused at their silence, looking between each serious face. "You cannot be serious."

"I know that it sounds too good to be true, but-"

"No, I mean, what made you think that I`d would do that? I`m not going to be just... one of your 'minions'!"

Leroy sighed and rolled his eyes, then motioned to the four boys behind him. "These are all the boys who have passed The Challenge. Darrel Stamford, John Donovan, and Spencer Hamlin. And you already know about Alex Dimmock. Boys, what do you think of being my friends?"

Immediatly they burst out in praise and joyful recollections. After two minutes straight of four boys talking at once, Leroy said, "Silence."

Hamish sighed exasperatedly. "I still don`t want to, idiot. Now can I go back to bed?"

Leroy clenched his jaw. "Okay, I think I`ll change my offer. If you don`t do The Challenge, I`ll make your life miserable. This is no longer an oppurtunity to become friends. Just take the Challenge, and I won`t make you hate every moment of your life here."

"Yeah, right, see you guys tomorrow."

Leroy blocked Hamish`s path and grabbed him by the arm. "Hey, let me go you creep!"

Leroy`s hand left a red mark on the boy`s face that would stay there until morning. The drastic shift in his demeanor would have been comical if not for the situation. "I`m not the creep! You`re the creep! Not me! You! _Creep!_ Do the d*** Challenge or the Nutter`s going down with you!" he snarled, his face red with rage, his back hunched over with some sort of primal anger.

Hamish was taken aback. "Jesus, fine! Calm down!" he said, pulling away. He looked at his arm, where Leroy had left bleeding finger nail marks. "Jeez..." he muttered.

When he looked up, Leroy had returned to his look of cool amusement. "Good. You have ten minutes to retrieve the jumper and get it back to us without Monitors clawing at your heels. The rest of you, wait in the dorm. Follow me, Hamy."

"Hamish," he growled.

"See, isn`t bonding nice?"

"You`re actually coming with me?"

"Of course not. I`m showing you where to start."

Leroy lead him to the very end of the hall. "Right there," he whispered. "That`s the jumper on the handles. There are six monitors. You have ten minutes. Meet back at the dorm when you`ve got it. Good luck, Hamy!"

"Hamish!"

"Whatever," Leroy said, then snuck back to the direction he`d come.

Hamish couldn`t believe he was actually doing this. He didn`t want to be Leroy`s d*** friend, and he wasn`t scared of his stupid threats. But his dad had always taught him that, if you weren`t going to save your own case, risk it for someone else`s. Hamish had asked where he`d learned that. John had said 'a friend'. What friend he had never told him.

The Great Hall was a lot creepier at night. Moonlight leaked through the skylights, and the teachers walked with dim flashlights like ghosts. He noted the unchanging route they took: they walked in a circle, but when they reached the door, or the office desk at the opposite end, they`d cut to the middle and go to their right, back into the current of teachers.

No doubt the teacher`s had dealt with multiple boys asking to get their jumper, trying to manipulate the them into handing it over quickly and easily, so Hamish knew that that wasn`t an option. Their pattern could be broken, though. He read the body language of the teachers-all tired and close to the end of their shifts-and a lot of them walked in the cautious way that someone without the usual contact lenses in their eyes did. Hamish`s pajamas were dark, so he looked to a near-sighted teacher coming up in the line. He would join the line behind the elderly teacher in front of her.

He was thankful that he wore socks to bed, so the man wouldn`t hear him. His hearing was probably already begining to fail him, anyway.

The old man passed him and Hamish slid out behind him. When he went to the middle, Hamish slipped into the corner that no teacher walked in and waited for him to come out to the other side, then began to follow him again. He slow shamble was making Hamish impatient and by the time they reached the entrance way where the jumper was strung over the handles, he had already considered just making a run for it about three times. _Thank God_, he thought as he came up next to it. He gave a strong tug, but it stuck to the handle. He tried again, harder, only to find that the sleeves were laced around the handles. The near-sighted woman was coming closer.

He began working furiously, wishing he could run but knowing that he had to pass the Challenge. She came closer and closer... Yes! He pulled the jumper away from the door handle just as he came into her line of sight. She gasped. "Student! Over here, by the door!" the woman screeched.

Hamish stifled a yell and raced to the NE Corridor. He stumbled recklessly by the teachers, narrowly avoiding outstretched hands. _Be rational_. Sherlock`s words echoed in his head. _When all else fails, run like hell_. John`s words echoed louder.

He used the jumper to cover his face-that was somewhat rational, right? Yep, John and Sherlock would be somewhat proud.

The corridor was dark, but he was able to find his own room quickly enough. He banged loudly on the door. "Let me in!" he whispered harshly.

"What`s the password, Hamy?" he heard Alex whisper back. Giggles chorused behind the door.

"Let me f***ing in!"

He was answered with more giggles. The teachers were too close for him to stay any longer and he was forced to race to the end of the corridor, which must`ve been at least half a mile.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Tophfer, the Cross-Country coach, led the teachers down the NE Corridor. Despite her near-sightedness, she was sure he had gone down this path. She`s seen boys do this before, sneak into the Great Hall at night and race away with a jumper-it wasn`t an uncommon occurence, especially when a new boy joined the school-but she had been hoping this one wouldn`t fall to peer pressure. Of course, she was wrong, as usual.

She hadn`t heard any doors open or close, but as she reached the empty end of the hall, she decided someone must`ve let him into their dormitory. "I know he went this way, they always do!" she fumed as the teachers caught up with her.

The teachers groaned. "Every time..." one muttered. "Come on, let`s go back. It`s too late."

When they were gone, Hamish climbed down slowly from the high rafters, still holding the jumper. He breathed a sigh of relief. Safe. But ticked. They had planned this all along! They didn`t want anything to do with him, Leroy and the others just wanted him gone! He wanted to tear the jumper in his hands, but had a better idea. The massive window at the end of the hallway reached up from the ground to the cieling. At the bottom was a couch, which he climbed into to reach a panel on the window that he could open.

It was a beautiful picture, watching the jumper float down on the wind into the moonlit lake at the bottom of the cliff on which the Academy was situated. It landed softly on the water before sinking under forever. Take that, Leroy.

He curled up on the couch, not bothering to return to his dorm-he doubted they`d let him in, anyway. Hopefully the sound of footsteps would wake him up the next morning at breakfast, and until then...

He drifted off into a satisfied sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

** Disclaimer:** I, regrettably, own nothing. Nor do I know how to spell regrettably.

* * *

_He curled up on the couch, not bothering to return to his dorm-he doubted they`d let him in, anyway. Hopefully the sound of footsteps would wake him up the next morning at breakfast, and until then..._

_ He drifted off into a satisfied sleep._

* * *

The corridor was alive with activity from the moment the sun rose over the cliffs. No one noticed the student asleep on the couch by the window, each boy too lost in his own egotistical world to care. Hamish was a heavy sleeper, but in the hard bed with the cold breeze of the morning over him, he woke up at the sound of the first few doors creaking open. He sat up, stretching out his sore arms and legs, and began the long walk to the lunch room.

The hall didn`t seem as long during the day, with no teachers to chase him, and he was to his dorm fairly quickly. He could hear snoring, but he could also hear movement, so Leroy was up-Alex obviously wouldn`t leave his master sleeping through breakfast. No, he would be a good little minion, gently shaking him awake, maybe bringing a cool glass of water so he could wash his face before getting out of the warm blankets. What a p****.

As Hamish passed his door, he heard it squeak on its hinges. Sure enough, Leroy raced over to him. "Hey, Watson, where`s my jumper?" Leroy said, shoving Hamish to get his attention. Hamish felt a surge of relief at hearing that the jumper was Leroy`s. He had begun to have doubts-it could have been just some boy`s he had stolen from or a borrowed jumper, and Hamish didn`t need anymore enemies.

"Oh, that? It`s at the bottom of the lake," Hamish answered. He shrugged, trying to hold back a smile as Leroy`s face began to grow red. "I was just casually holding it out the window over there and I guess it just... slipped. Oh well."  
He turned, no longer hiding his smile, to the lunch room where he could already see the line growing. "Hey, get back here! I`m going to get you, creep!"

"No you won`t!" Hamish called back in a sing song voice. Leroy`s weakness had made him a bit bold, but it wasn`t like he`d pay for it later. Leroy was as scrawny as he was, and Hamish knew he could hold his own against him anyway.  
Today he had come with money, and he kept his hands in his pockets to protect it. Surely Anderson wasn`t the only jerk at Wilhiem, and Hamish wasn`t so sure that the lunch woman would fall for his trick a second time. "Learned your lesson? How`d a good starving teach you?" the lunch lady said in her head ache-inducing, nasaly voice.

Hamish nodded earnestly. "It has shown me the error in my ways," he said, handing her the money. This answer satisfied her and Hamish was able to go back to his lunch table with Soni without any more problems.

"Hey," she said in the quiet way she always spoke. The way she kept her head lowered, Hamish could tell that she still didn`t trust him. "Decided to stay with the Nutter, huh?"

"Yep, and you know what else? I got my own nick name, too!" he announced proudly to Soni and anyone close enough to hear.

She giggled, a pretty sound, but Hamish didn`t doubt that it could be creepy, too, if she wanted it to be. "What`s yours?" she asked.

"Creep."

"Oh, good one!" she congratulated him. Her voice was brighter, she was warming up to him. Progress, he decided.

"Have you got your schedule yet?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, they gave it to me when I got here," Hamish said, taking it from his pocket and unfolding it hastily. "I have Social Studies, then Maths, then Music-"

"You do music?" she asked excitedly. "What instrument do you play?"

Hamish looked down at his feet and muttered a short word that Soni couldn`t make out. "What?"

He coughed. "The pipe..."

"The pipe?"

"Yeah... Problem?"

"Nothing wrong for me, but don`t tell Leroy and his friends or it`ll be worse for you than ever. Apparently they think the pipe`s 'gay' or something."

"How`d you know that I knew them?" Hamish said suddenly, ignoring her small attempt at a joke. How much did she know?

"It`s all over the school, Hamish. The teachers ran screaming after a boy who took the Challenge, never caught him, only new boys who spend time with Leroy take the Challenge-you fit the bill. I assume you two share a dorm?"

"Uh... yeah, actually. Is the Challenge that well known? Does everyone know I took it?" _Does everyone know I failed?_ he questioned silently.

"Yep. I never really took you for someone who`d want to join up with Leroy..." she said a little softer.

"Oh, no, I didn`t do it willingly. They kind of just dragged me into the hallway. I only did it because..." Oh, yeah. He`d failed, so that meant... _Maybe they were just saying they`d hurt Soni so I`d take the Challenge_, he thought, although he doubted it. He decided to leave that little detail out. "Because they threatened to tell about the rat that I brought."

"That`s the most-"

Soni never got to finish her sentence as the school bell rang overhead. "See ya'," Hamish said curtly, and raced off to his dorm.

* * *

Hamish entered just as Alex finished pulling on his shirt. What Hamish saw before closing his eyes in terror was mortifying, but he pulled through so that he could feed Min. She was getting old, he noticed with a frown. _She still has at least two years left_, he consoled himself somewhat.

"Hey, Watson," Dimmock called him. Hamish looked over cautiously, making sure he was fully clothed before giving him his full attention.

"What?" Hamish said when he was sure it safe.

"That thing you did with Leroy`s jumper... did you really throw it in the lake?"

"Do you _see_ a jumper on me? There`s not many places to hide a bright yellow shirt in the corridors." Alex stared silently. God, this kid was thick. "_Yes_, I threw it in the lake."

"Oh." He nodded. "Cool move."

"Right, thanks," Hamish said, turning back to search through his drawers for something to wear. He settled on a T-shirt from his old school and some plain blue shorts.

"Hey, Hamish, I`m going to let you in on a little..." Alex`s eyes flickered dangerously around the room. "Secret," he whispered.

"Oh boy, a secret? Maybe later we can set up a slumber party!" Hamish squealed sarcastically.

"Maybe... If you`re lucky. Now, the secret: I can`t say much, but if you take the West Hall between second and third period... you`ll be rewarded." Alex nodded. "Don`t speak of this to Leroy."

"Um... Okay, sure, mate."

Alex proceeded to tip toe sneakily out of the room as though he were sneaking up on someone, leaving Hamish staring in disbelief at the door. He couldn`t help but wonder what could possibly go through Dimmock`s head all the time. Static? That was his best guess. An annoyed squeak from the rat cage on his nightstand broke into his thoughts, and he turned quickly to feed the rodent that was staring at him through the bars. "Yeah, Min, I get it. You can shut up now," he said, even though he had found out long ago that animals couldn`t actually understand humans.

After feeding Min, Hamish stooped down to grab the books he`d need for the first part of the day, then raced off to the East Corridor where his History class was. _I can`t say much, but if you take the West Hall between second and third period... you`ll be rewarded._ Alex`s reminder swam up in his mind again. In any other voice the words would have been eerie, but it was impossible to take anything seriously that came from Dimmock`s mouth. Still, Hamish made a note to at least stop by the West Corridor before Music to see what he had been talking about.

As usual, his curiosity got the better of him.

* * *

The first thing Hamish heard when he reached the West Corridor was shouting. The hallway was congested with other students and it was a war in itself to push through all of them. His blood was heated with addrenaline and anger. He knew what was happening, deep down. He didn`t want to believe it, but he knew who would be at the center of the throng of students. "Soni!" he shouted.

Hamish was answered with a shriek, and he almost crushed the other students trying to reach the middle. Anderson was small enough to fight, sure, but Anderson wasn`t there. Instead there were two of his minions-Donovan and Hamlin, if he remembered correctly-surrounding Soni. They had started small but were slowly allowing their actions to get bigger, more violent. Soni was now backed against the wall with a boy on each side of her. She shrieked again as she dodged a sloppily aimed punch from Hamlin, slipping from between them as the tall boy nursed the hand that had slammed into the locker. Soni darted for crowd of students, hoping to push past them to safety, but was shoved backward.

Hamish had been watching all of this with his mouth open in horror. Anderson hadn`t been lying, d*** it, he had meant it! Hamish forced his way through the last of the kids in front of him and burst into the circle. Hamlin and Donovan`s eyes widened slightly when they saw him, clearly unprepared to fight fairly, but they quickly hardened with determination. "Hamish?" Soni said. She smiled slightly before she was forced to duck out of the path of Donovan`s fist.

"Hey, Soni, how`s it going?" Hamish said casually, inviting himself into the fight. He landed a kick to Hamlin`s shin while shielding his chest from a punch. Those that could hear him laughed, but the sound was washed away in the loud shouts.

"Not so good," she whimpered. Hamish felt a surge of anger at her hurt tone and took it out in a well aimed hook to Hamlin`s jaw. He staggered back and Hamish smiled smugly before a fist plowed into his stomach. He fell to the ground and looked up to see Donovan looming over him, lifting his foot in preparation to crush Hamish`s hand.

Suddenly he froze in pain and fell to the ground. Soni stood over him, her fingers still pressed into two pressure points on the dark skin of his neck. "Sheep," she hissed, glaring at the unconcious body at her feet. She ducked down and tripped Hamlin as he charged at her, then kicked him hard in the side. She didn`t stop until he was unconcious, too, and even then Hamish had to drag her off of him. The crowd had thinned when the late bell rang, and now all stragglers fled in fear.

"Soni," Hamish said, grabbing her wrists. She was crying and she struggled in his grip. As much as he hated human contact, she was his friend, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. It didn`t start out as an actual hug, just a way of getting Soni to calm down, but it ended as one.

Hamish stared at the wall. This was his fault. It was all his fault. "Soni, what did they do to you? Are you hurt?" he questioned her. Soni shook her head.

"They didn`t hurt me," she whimpered. "They just said-they said-"

She bit her lip as more tears streamed down her face. Hamish looked around himself at this pause, remembering exactly where he was. Two unconcious bodies lay around him. This probably wasn`t the best place to talk. "Soni, come on, we`re going to my dorm."

She looked around drearily, then giggled. "I don`t know, I kind of like the scenary."

"Half-dead students lying in the hallway?"

"You say half dead students, I say ambiance."

"Morbid."

"Potato pot_a_to."

Hamish burst out laughing, but grabbed Soni`s hand anyway. "Seriously, though, we should go."

"Yeah, probably."

They raced off to the North East Corridor, carefully avoiding the Hall Monitors. It had been two days and he had already done two things that could easily get him expelled. Both, he realized, looking over at the girl next to him, because of Soni. Too quick to trust. That was what Sherlock had once called him, but John had said that that was a good thing. _Yeah_, he decided. _That`ll be my excuse when I finally get caught.  
_

The door was locked, but since his adventure last night, he had started carrying a key around with him. They slipped in, careful not to let the door squeak behind them. "We`re going to get in trouble," Soni said softly, quickly deducing which bed was Hamish`s and lying down on it.

"I don`t care, Soni, now what did they do to you?" Hamish said sternly, sitting down on the bed.

She shook her head. "Okay," she breathed. "Hamish, they didn`t hurt me. They just... said some things."

"Like what?"

"They... um... They knew about my dad, I guess, and... and they told me that... They said that he killed himself because he wanted to get rid of me... That I was just a burden to him so he... you know..."

"Your dad killed himself?"

"Yeah. I never got to meet him, but I can sort of remember my mum. They told me she abandoned me because I was just a n-n-nut." Soni shoved her face into Hamish`s pillow as she began to cry again. That poor pillow hadn`t had a full twenty-four hours to be dry in so long... Poor Soni, too, of course. But he really needed to wash that pillow case...

"Soni, you`re not a nut," Hamish said, finally focusing on the more important matter at hand. "If your parents are gone, it wasn`t because of you."

"How would you know?" she sniffled.

"I know because my mom left me, too. She didn`t leave because she didn`t want me, she left because she had to. You don`t know the whole story, Sonia."

"Oh, shut up. Just because you`re being cheezy doesn`t mean you need to use my full name. Seriously, it`s a stupid name."

"I like it."

"_So - nee_. Not Sonia." She frowned. "So, your mom ditched you? You never told me that..."

"Well, I have only known you for two days."

"Oh, yeah, right. So, your dad takes care of you? What relation do you have to the other guy that came to drop you off?"

"He`s my dad`s friend." Soni gave him a questioning look. "Seriously. Just a friend," he said earnestly.

"Oh."

"Yep..." They had slipped into an awkward silence. Hamish coughed. "So, if you, you know, don`t have parents, who takes care of you?"

"My dad`s got friends, too. Sebastian Moran. He`s pretty much all I have, now, since my uncle said he didn`t want me. But Gabe`s kind of a jerk anyway, so I`m glad I stay with Moran." She smiled. "He acts like he doesn`t care, but I know he does. He`s kind of like a teddy bear with a gun obsession."

Hamish laughed. "That`s... odd."

"Yeah. I know. So how are we going to explain missing Music?"

Hamish shrugged. "And what about Hamlin and Donovan?"

"We could just tell half the truth. We cut class but we only fought in self defense," Hamish suggested.

"We did only fight in self defense," Soni corrected him.

"Actually, I was kind of enjoying it."

Soni smiled. "Sounds good. See you at lunch?"

"Yeah." The bell rang from the Great Hall. "See ya'."

Soni stood and slipped out of the dorm, looking around first to make sure it was safe. Hamish stared at the door long after it had closed. _Friend_, his brain reminded him.

Suddenly his phone buzzed in his pocket.

_**Hamish. -SH**__  
_

_yeah?  
_

_**I`ve been looking through your school records. -SH**__  
_

_what about them?  
_

_**Do you know a Sonia Moriarty? -SH**__  
_

_maybe.  
_

_**Avoid any contact with this student. -SH**__  
_

_what? why?  
_

_**Promise me that you`ll avoid her. -SH**_

Hamish stared at his phone. Avoid Soni? Was he crazy? His phone buzzed again.

**_She and all her family are dangerous. Promise me you`ll avoid her, Hamish. -SH_**

Yeah, right. Sherlock was smart, but he could be a little paranoid at times. When Hamish didn`t respond, his phone continued to buzz. More texts from Sherlock, of course, begging him to stay away from Soni.

**_Promise me._**

Hamish rolled his eyes and switched off his phone.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Okay, it took forever, but I actually did two chapters in a week. I love this story, but I want it done. Two chapters per week until it`s over, starting Halloween. See ya Wednesday. :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N:**_ Well, I`m going to warn you now: I went pretty much brain dead while writing this chapter. You can tell at the end where things get cheesy. Although on the bright side, we are finally bringing it to a close! My first fanfiction... Even though I only have seven followers, I`ve got to say, I have never been more proud! I already started the next chapter and I have a big surprise for all of you that have stuck with it! So, I think we can safely say there`ll be four more chapters after this.

And one last thing: I am so sorry about chapter four! I only just realized about Harry and Clara after reading over John`s Blog. I`m so ashamed... But, I promised I wouldn`t change anything else, so I`ll put a notice up and we`ll all have to deal with it. So, without further ado, the cheesiest of all my chapters so far (bear with me)...

**Disclaimer:** Don`t own anything, but I feel safe in claiming most of the students.

* * *

** Promise me.**

**** Hamish rolled his eyes and switched off his phone.

* * *

Sherlock snapped his phone shut, contemplating the idea of throwing it across the room. He stared at the blank screen, willing Hamish to reply, to promise. But like every other teenager (including once, as Sherlock so hated to admit, himself), Hamish was rebelling-not for any particular reason, no, just for the sake of rebelling.

It was at that point that John pushed through the door to the flat with his backside, his arms full of groceries. He made his way to the kitchen without looking at Sherlock, instead watching the floor for any debris left behind from the last time his flat mate got bored. "You know, it would be great if you`d- Oh, God, Sherlock, what are you doing with that phone?"

The tall man looked up from his glare at the small machine and shoved it in his pocket. He rubbed his hands together and began to organize the papers on his desk in a business-like manner. "Honestly, just because I`m staring at it doesn`t mean it`ll explode," he scoffed.

"Usually it does," John muttered as he flopped into the couch, too tired from his fifteen minute long argument with the self check out machine to put away the food. Besides, he wasn`t in the mood for moving around any of Sherlock`s 'experiments' in the fridge. He tried to focus on his laptop as Sherlock began to pace behind him with growing agitation.

"John, what is wrong with your son?!" he finally burst out.

"What?"

"I`ve texted him about something important and he refuses to do what I tell him! He`s being an idiot!"

"Sherlock, he`s a teenager! They do that!" John argued.

"Yes, yes, I know. I was thirteen once, too, but this is life threatening and-"

"Life threatening?"

"Yes, life threatening. I think we`ve established by now that safety is boring."

"Sherlock, explain!" John was standing now, and Sherlock had stopped pacing. The only sound was the honking of cars outside as they glared at each other. Sherlock sighed.

"Fine. Long story short, Moriarty has two living relatives, one of which is out for revenge and the other with a highly impressionable mind. Gabriel Moriarty: one of the assassins that tried to kill me so long ago, the smart one, and Sonia Moriarty: his daughter, young, and probably trained to hate both your and my existance. The assassin`s jobs have ended. There`s one of them left, not much for a group of killers. So why worry, right?" He broke off from his quick words to give a small, fake laugh, before his face became emotionless again. "I`ll tell you why you should worry, John. Not only did we kill a relative, we killed his friends. Hell, we chased his employer into hiding-he never got _paid _for his efforts in killing me. Do you know what that makes people think? What it makes them want? He wants _revenge_, John."

John rolled his eyes and fell back into his chair. "Sherlock, did you have coffee this morning?"

"Yes."

"Caffienated?"

"I don`t see how that-"

"_Sherlock_."

"Yes."

"Calm down, then! You`re overreacting and, seriously, stop drinking that d*** coffee!"

"John, this is Hamish we`re talking about. At least consider it."

"Sherlock, ever since you came back from... you know, dying, you`ve been paranoid. You haven`t stepped outside without looking both ways first! Just let it go. He`s fine." John pulled his laptop back to his lap. Sherlock groaned in annoyance, then crouched down next to John`s chair.

"John, why did you choose Wilhiem?" he said, focusing on the ground.

"Friend suggested it."

"Good friend?"

"Well, no. But he`s got kids, too. People with kids aren`t murderers."

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. "John, do you realize what just came out of your mouth? Moriarty`s got a child! The mass murderer, consulting criminal psychopath had a kid! Now, where did you meet this man? What did he look like?"

"Uh, dark hair, glasses... Beard, I think?"

"Oh, a beard, of course. How origional," Sherlock scoffed. "John, believe me, Hamish is in danger!" Sherlock took a deep breath. "_Please."_

John gave him a sideways glance. Sherlock rarely said please, and when he did, it didn`t sound like that. It had never sounded so... real. "Say I did believe you... What exactly has happened and will happen?"

Sherlock smiled, relieved. "Thank you. Really. So, revenge: Gabriel Moriarty, the third assassin wants revenge. I took everything he had away from him. So he wants to take everything from me. Jim`s already tried you, hiding you away, threatening your life. Both of us have been too smart for that, even you, and they`d be idiots to try that again. It`s failed every time. So, they have to settle. Second best. Stealing away a young, impressionable, rebellious, idiot teenager named Hamish is their best shot at revenge. How would they do this?

"Well, living with us, of course, Hamish would get into some trouble. In this case, he attempts to shoot his cousin. Afterwards, you go somewhere to think it over, how to 'fix' him, Gabriel just so happens to be there, and he says 'take him to Wilhiem!' And there he meets Sonia, pretty, weird like him, obvious candidate for a best friend. He becomes loyal to the Moriarty`s, not knowing their past, and if we tell him he`ll rebel even more because he`s a 'teenager'. John, he`s been there a few days and Gabriel`s pretty much got him-he`s already refusing to stay away from that 'Sonia' girl. Now she just has to find away to get him to her uncle and it`s over," Sherlock finished nearly without breathing. His eyes were wide with... fear? No, worry. Sherlock didn`t get scared. Usually. John on the other hand seemed to find it hard to hide his growing anxiety.

"You`re sure?"

"When am I ever unsure, John?" Sherlock said.

"Well, if what you`re saying is true, then why don`t we just take him out?"

"How suspicious is that? No, the Moriarty`s will know that we know about them and it`ll be that much harder to keep him safe."

John nodded, staring at the ground. "Then... what do we do?"

Sherlock shook his head. "We wait."

* * *

To Hamish`s surprise, John and Sherlock hadn`t protested to his request of staying at Wilhiem`s over Winter break. He was now sitting on the couch by the window at the end of the NE Corridor, looking out at the lake, letting his mind wander aimlessly with no distractions. The rest of the students had left a couple days ago, and Leroy and Soni were the only kids he knew that had stayed. And so Hamish was here, alone, avoiding his dormitory as well as he could on Christmas Eve. _Should`ve gone home_, taunted a voice in his head. _But no, you wanted to be a big boy._

__ Soni was in the Great Hall, helping clean up after the massive Christmas feast even though she was atheist through and through. Hamish, on the other hand, was attempting to claw his way from his impending food coma. Leroy... well, Hamish didn`t care. The bell rang from the Hall, warning all the remaining students of the approaching curfew. It was only eleven, but Hamish was forced to oblige and made his way to his dorm. Leroy was already there, texting on his bed. "Hey, Watson, guess who I`m texting," he sneered.

"Don`t care."

"Amanda Knight."

Hamish rolled his eyes. Sure, she was pretty, but most of that beauty could be wiped off with a wet paper towel, leaving an almost-but-not-quite cheerleader. No, Wilhiem hadn`t discovered the miracle of sports yet, so Amanda was left with an annoying amount of pent up energy. "Come on, Hamy, you know you want her."

"Gross, Leroy."

"Is it dark in the closet?"

Hamish was about to retort with a few choice words of his own when a knock on the door cut him off. "Guess we`ll never know," shrugged Leroy.

Hamish opened the door cautiously, only to find Soni pushing past him into the dorm. "Hey," she said, flopping onto his bed.

"Soni?"

"Yep. Finished cleaning up, thought I`d drop by." She smiled and Hamish couldn`t help but notice how white her teeth were. "I got you something..."

Hamish sat down next to her on his bed as she pulled out a bit of crumpled up newspaper from behind her back. "Oh, um... I didn`t get you anything. Sorry..."

"It`s fine, really," she insisted. "I don`t celebrate Christmas, remember?"

"Still..."

"Open it!"

"Okay, okay! Pushy..." Hamish unwrapped it carefully. The newspaper looked old, headlined with **'Hat-Man and Psycho, ****_Double Suicide on St. Bart`s Rooftop!'_**, but otherwise it didn`t catch his attention much. Soni watched him eagerly as revealed the crystaline rat within the papers. For a moment he thought he saw disappointment in her eyes when he threw aside the papers, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. He must`ve been imagining it. "Thanks, Soni! It`s shiny!"

Hamish settled the sparkling figurine next to Min`s cage on his night stand. She squeaked and backed away from the alien object. The way it glittered... it was screwing with her eyesight... her brain was working on overdrive as it tried to figure out what it might be. Hamish watched his rat stare transfixedly at the gift, her eyes widening slowly.

"Anyway," Soni said, tearing her eyes away from the animal, "have you seen the posters?"

"What posters?"

"You know... Snow Ball?" she prompted.

"Oh, yeah! Right... I knew that," Hamish replied quickly. He had seen a few blue posters around the halls but had never paid much find to them.

"Well, it`s after Winter Break and I was wondering if maybe... you`d want to go with me?" Hamish`s face lit up. _Yes yes yes yes_. "You know, as friends?" _Crap_.

She noticed his face fall and gave him a questioning glance. "Sure, sure, yeah. Friends! It`ll be fun!" he covered.

"Great! I gotta go, though. See you later!" Soni pushed herself from the bed and gave Hamish a hug, then left. He sat on his bed staring with glazed, dreamy eyes at the door long after it had closed. He appreciated the silence of the room as his thoughts salvaged themselves from the jumbled mess Soni had left them in.

Finally, Anderson broke the silence with, "I like her..."

Hamish finally noticed Leroy on his bed. He had been staring at the door but was now looking at Hamish, holding the same expression. Hamish felt a flare of indignation. "Hey, no, she`s my friend! She`s going to the dance with me, she said so, remember?!" Hamish rambled.

"So? As friends! Even if you two _do_ get cozy, you`ll find a way to screw it up somehow. I know you," Anderson threw back.

Hamish held his tongue, doing his best to stop the stream of cuss words about to explode from his mouth. He took a deep breath. "Okay, okay." -another deep breath- "Let`s call a truce. Temporary. Till the dance?"

"May the best man gain the prize."

"She`s a girl, not a prize, Leroy," Hamish snapped.

"Till the dance."


	9. Chapter 9

** Disclaimer:**Nothing. I own nothing.

* * *

_"May the best man gain the prize."_

_"She`s a girl, not a prize, Leroy," Hamish snapped._

_"Till the dance."_

* * *

When Soni entered the dormitory, she knew that she wasn`t alone. The door was scuffed where it had been partially forced open, along with scrapes along the key hole where someone had attempted to pick the lock had tipped her off immediatly. The low, raspy breath from the corner told her that the intruder was still there. "Gabe, you can come out now," Soni said, glaring into the dark corner.

"What gave me away?" he said without moving. She heard in him cough and envisioned him taking his clean hankerchief from his pocket as he did.

"What do you want?" she questioned, walking to her bed and lying down. She was tired and the impending dan

ger brought by Gabe`s presence did close to nothing to appease that. She was half asleep before he finally stepped into the dim lighting, eyes glinting, suit immaculate, hankie folded and jutting from his pocket.

"Oh, come now, don`t pretend you don`t know. Honestly, Sonia, I thought you were better than that," he chided. "How is everything going?"

Soni felt her cheeks reddening with both embarassment and shame. _You lied, you lied, you`re lying now,_ echoed the dirty little voice in her head. A million other murmurs raced around in her mind, growing louder as each tried to overshadow the rest. She wouldn`t scream. Soni refused to scream, but she allowed her hands to cover her ears as she curled up tighter on the sheets. "Ah. Good, then. And I assume he is oblivious to any of this?"

"No," she breathed. "I checked his phone - easy password, 'piper' - and the tall man knows. The smart one. He warned him."

"Doesn`t matter," Gabriel assured her. "If you`ve done your job well enough it should be fine."

Soni lay curled on her bed for awhile more, waiting for Gabe to continue. "Gabe, I don`t want to do this anymore," she whispered, taking her hands away from her ears. The murmurs in her head had quieted slightly and she could now focus on her uncle. In his dark suit, he blended in with the walls, but she could still barely see him by the door.

"Sonia, stop this. We have planned this for _years_," he snarled. "You can`t just stop now because your worried our target will get his feelings hurt."

"I`m not worried he`ll get his feelings hurt! I just don`t want any part of killing someone!" she snapped. "It`s wrong!"  
He stalked towards her and Soni cringed back where he touched her arm. He glared at her, coughed into his hankerchief, and stood from his crouch. "Two more weeks, Sonia. Stay with me for two more weeks and the voices will disappear. We`ll get someone to make the voices disappear. You`re almost there. Now get some sleep. You have preparations to make."

"Yes, Uncle," she murmured from where she lay on her bed.

"And, Soni?"

"Yes, Uncle?"

"Do not forget where you priorities lie."

She heard the door close but never saw him leave. Her eyes were far too blurred by tears as the voices grew louder and louder in her mind.

* * *

From what Hamish had observed so far, Wilhiem took its dances very seriously. Letters had been sent out to all the parents a week before the end of Winter Break to send money and begin shopping for the proper attire. To Hamish (and likely, he thought, to John and Sherlock) the whole thing was ridiculously over-glorified. That was why he was surprised when a wad of money arrived in an envelope addressed to him along with a note saying, _Completed a case. Extra money. Enjoy your dance and don`t be an a***. -SH & JW_

It was also the reason that he was spending the first Friday after the end of Winter Break and his last Friday before the dance in a gaudy dressing shop with Alex Dimmock who was, sadly, the closest thing he had to a male friend at Wilhiem. "Are guys even supposed to do this?" Hamish asked, fiddling with his zipper as Alex changed behind a curtain.

He stepped out of the changing room in a mostly unbuttoned suit. It fit him like a glove, if said glove had been stretched until it was almost ripped in half. "Sure they do! Tell me, now, what do you think?" Dimmock turned so Hamish could have a better view of him.

"Yeah, no, I think I`ll just go find one for myself. It`ll have things done quicker." So, after close to two hours of searching through aisles of black suits and dresses, Hamish and, by some miracle, Alex, both found suits that fit them and were able to catch the last train back to the Academy. Alex hadn`t stopped talking since they left the shop, and Hamish knew that if he didn`t get to his bed soon, the annoying boy would be in danger of getting punched in the mouth. Their room was dark, and Leroy was already asleep. Hamish didn`t even remember getting into bed, just falling into sweet sleep.

* * *

_ One more week._ Soni stood in her red dress, staring at her own green eyes in Lena`s tallest mirror. There was a knock on the door. "Miss Adler?" A different voice from last time, or the time before that. Lena seemed to have a different boy knocking at her door every week. In her subconcious mind, she recognized this trait as one often shared by girls who lacked a father figure. Lena seemed to glide from the bathroom in a sparkling black gown. Somehow it was both revealing and modest at the same time. A dark haired boy was on the other side, smiling expectantly, his eyes lighting up as Lena said, "Hello, Mr. Mortimor." And they left.

The dance had started half an hour ago, and, like most dances at this school, Soni expected it to be spectacularly over-done. She could hear the music, which had begun slowly and escalated to the loud pop music children of her generation chose to listen to, from her room. She knew she had to leave. Soni had to make sure she had him before Gabriel struck. Breathing deeply, she left her dormitory, turning the lights off behind her.

Soni was correct in thinking that the dance would be over-done. Some sort of undiscovered band was set up with bright blue and purple light shining around them like search lights, pausing on a dancing couple of students from time to time. Misters had been placed behind the office desk by the wall opposite of the door, and they had clearly been running all day, as the floor was entirely covered with fog. It was actually kind of pretty the way the light blurred in the dark mist, although she was sure if anyone younger than twelve had been invited she would have trampled them on accident.  
She looked around for Hamish and quickly spotted him next to the hallway to the NE Corridor, leaning awkwardly against the wall. Their eyes locked and Soni couldn`t hold back a smile at how strange he looked shoved into a suit with his normally messy hair smoothed down. A few rebellious locks were back to sticking out. Hamish returned the smile and Soni hoped she didn`t look as ridiculous as he did. "Sorry," she said as she reached him. "I was... kind of late I guess?"  
"Just a little," he muttered, and she blushed. "I`m kidding! Now come on, we`ve only got an hour!" He held out his hand but she grabbed his arm instead, putting on her best show of being girly and cute. _Liar._

Monitors had posted themselves by all the corridor entrances and the door, but the room was large and the mist was heavy, so visibility was limited. Hamish clearly loved the music (even the Winter music, though it was remarkably cheesy) and, for his sake, Soni forced herself to dance to it, too. Finally after nearly thirty minutes, the moment Soni had been waiting for came. "We`re going to slow this dance down a bit!" called the man who must`ve been the lead singer. "It`s time for those seemingly pointless Cotillian lessons to be put to use!"

There was cheering before the lights dimmed further and the notes of a piano hummed through the speakers. The dance would last about three minutes, Soni knew. She had three minutes. "Dance with me?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"Sure," he replied. "As friends, of course?"

"If that`s what you want to call it."

Hamish was anything but a good dancer, so Soni led. She could feel his heart beating beneath the suit, but she kept her thoughts focused and methodical. _Remember where your priorities lie._ As much as she wanted to, she would not allow herself to fall into the mindless practices of the other children her age. The song ended and the music shifted to the fun and fast songs again. Soni was tired of dancing and she had done what she came to do, so she dragged Hamish to the wall to see him off before he began jumping around like an idiot again, though he seemed to be done.

"Well, I`m going to go, but I`ll see you tomorrow," Soni said, still holding his hand.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

She looked at both of his eyes. Yes, as usual, Gabriel`s plans had worked. She could almost see the extreme loyalty, along with, as she noticed with a pang of guilt, infatuation, in his eyes. Maybe if she weren`t so focused on what she had to do, she would have felt it, too, but Gabe had taught her to force those thoughts away when needed. Right now, it was entirely needed.

Why was she staring at him? She`d said goodbye, and now Soni seemed... Expectant? The bright lights and loud sounds had thrown his thoughts into an unidentifyable mess. He could hardly think, let alone attempt to read her body language. Was she... hinting at something? Or just thinking? Her lips moved, and he knew she was speaking, but all he could hear was a faint monotone, as was focused entirely on her lips. Shiny with lip gloss. Her eyes glittering. Eh, what the hell.

Hamish crushed his mouth to Soni`s. He felt her jerk back in surprise and he followed her, flattening her to the wall with his own weight. Her hands grabbed at his arms, resisting slightly before instinct took over. The change was sudden and big, like the whole flood of emotions she`d held back all her life being let loose, intense and desperate in their new-found freedom. Soni wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and twining her hands in his hair. He could feel each breath she took, smell the flowery cinnamon scent she carried. She had a d*** strong grip, he noticed, as she pressed back against him. It felt like more than just right, it felt perfect. She was smiling against his lips as her eyes fluttered open slightly...

Soni`s eyes snapped open entirely and she suddenly pushed Hamish away with a shriek. "No!" she whimpered. "D*** it!"

Hamish gave her a bewhildered look. He had never heard her use any coarse language before. Ever. "Why did you do that?!" Tears shone in her eyes. "I`m... I wasn`t..." She slapped him then ran from the hall to her dormitory, tears streaming down her face._ Remember where your priorities lie. __Where are your priorities now? __**Just another normal person, apparently,**__ letting emotions rule your life. __Gabriel will be angry. __**He`s going to be very angry, Soni,**_ the voices whispered and screeched at the same time. Oh, God, she hoped she wasn`t screaming. By some miracle, Soni made it to her dormitory without attracting too much attention to herself - without screaming in frustration and fear - and she collapsed onto her bed. Curled up. Crying. Door locked. Safe.

Hamish knew he should have been scared or hurt... but he just wanted more. He shook his head and felt his thoughts clear. What was he thinking?! She was his friend! Friend, friend, friend, _friend!_ He was an idiot. "F***..." he muttered. But he wouldn`t chase her. She wanted to be alone. At least, she didn`t want him to be with her. 'Don`t be an a***', the letter had said. Leave it to him to screw that up.

He stormed off to his dormitory, angry with himself, with Soni, with everything. He didn`t notice the knowing smirk the Monitor by the NE Corridor gave him. Nor did he notice Leroy watching him from the Hall with glittering malice in his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

_**marye:**__ Thanks so much for being my first reviewer! Anyway, when I first started righting this I thought the same thing, but after a lot of thinking (and a lot of procrastinating), I decided it might be fun to make Hamish a bit rebellious, since all the other 'John has a kid' scenarios seem to have him as being so polite. However, I did not throw out the idea of Hamish being brave, as you`ll see in the coming chapters. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story!_

**_A/N:_** This was mainly just a filler chapter, but I`m hoping it`ll give a little of Soni`s background, too. I hope you like it!

**Disclaimer:** I don`t own anything.

* * *

_Hamish stormed off to his dormitory, angry with himself, with Soni, with everything. He didn`t notice the knowing smirk the Monitor by the NE Corridor gave him. Nor did he notice Leroy watching him from the Hall with glittering malice in his eyes._

* * *

It was past twelve, sometime around one, maybe. Hamish didn`t know. He didn`t really care either. All he could think about was the look of betrayal in Soni`s eyes when she pulled back. He`d been an idiot. He`d been an absolute idiot and he wished he could go crawl into a deep dark pit and die. Hamish pulled his phone from his night stand and went to Soni`s name in his contacts. He`d have to apologize, he knew, no matter how badly it would hurt his pride. He took a deep breath.

_Soni, I`m really really sorry I was..._

No. He wasn`t a baby. He was sorry, but he wasn`t going to grovel.

_I didn`t know what I..._

No.

_It wasn`t my fault! I didn`t..._

No.

_I wish I`d..._

No, no, _no_. He wouldn`t explain or whine or shove the blame on anyone else. He couldn`t. So maybe she`d overreacted, and maybe the bright lights and loud music had thrown him off, but, as much as he loathed to admit it, it was his fault. And he`d take the blame.

_I`m sorry._  
_**Send.**_

Hamish waited, staring at his phone for another half hour before throwing it onto his pillow with a groan. Okay, he`d have to do it the old fashioned way, then. He pulled on his shoes (which he had kicked to opposite sides of the room upon entering) and left his dorm with a grimace on his face. The Monitors were tired and half asleep already, and Hamish passed them easily. Now he stood in front of Soni`s door, half regretting his decision to apologize in person.

Surely if he waited long enough she`d reply, and he`d see her at breakfast the next day, probably, though he wouldn`t put it past her to just skip it. What if she was just sleeping? John would have been appalled to see how many excuses he`d made just for the sake of not apologizing and, with this in mind, he knocked softly on the door and waited. Soni didn`t answer, nor did anyone else, so he tried again. So she actually was sleeping. _Crap._

Well, Hamish refused to go back through the line of Monitors without trying, and, really, trying the handle didn`t take all that much effort. To his surprise, she`d left it unlocked. Light flooded the corridor and immediatly he knew she was awake. "Soni?" he said, opening the door enough to fit his head through. What he saw was not what he expected. Anderson leaned in towards Soni, their faces only inches apart, eyes eager. For lack of a better action, he forced down his anger at seeing them and attempted to squeeze back through the door unnoticed. He failed miserably.

"Ow!" he muttered as he hit his head on the door frame in his haste. The two looked over at the noise and their eyes widened, Anderson`s in anger, Soni`s in sheer embarrassment.

"Watson!"

"Hamish, what the heck are you doing here!"

"Um... I-"

"Were you spying on us, Watson? How long were you standing there you creep?!" Leroy demanded.

Soni stood from the bed and Leroy followed. "I can`t believe you!" she said, almost sadly, pointing at Hamish.

"I could just-"

"You knew I wanted to be alone, you`re smart, so quit smothering me!"

Hamish could understand Soni`s anger at being witnessed almost - ugh, he didn`t want to think about it! Witnessed being so... 'close' to Leroy, his mind improvised. But he most certainly was not smothering her!

"I was just coming to apologize!" he protested angrily. He looked at Leroy. He wasn`t fidgeting awkwardly. No, he was just waiting for Hamish to leave so he could start where he`d left off. Hamish felt another flash of anger at this. "Besides, even you could see that Leroy`s using you!" he pointed out.

"He`s not using me, I`m using him," she hissed. Hamish gave her a strange look and she scoffed. "You wouldn`t understand."

Her eyes shifted coldly between Hamish and Leroy. "Get out," she said finally.

"What?" Leroy said. "But we were-"

"Out." It was nothing more than a whisper but it shook both boys deeply and they raced from the room. The doors closed behind them, and both stood in the darkness of the hallway, breathing shakily, each certain that whatever had sent them away from the room was not Soni.

* * *

The voices raged.

She had gone too far. She had forgotten where her priorities lay. Of course, Soni had gotten herself back on track quickly, she was back in her place, but she had strayed for a moment, and even that could be enough to bring on Gabe`s wrath. Face down on her pillow, she sobbed quietly, surprised and slightly angered when she heard the knock on her door. It couldn`t be Lena. No, she`d`ve gone with that Mortimor boy that took her to the dance or someone else she`d picked up along the way. Maybe both. That left only one person.

"Go away, Hamish!" she shouted.

"It`s not Hamish!" the voice replied. Oh, right. It was the boy that had seen Hamish kiss her.

She stood up and wiped off her eyes, then opened the door. "What do you want?" she snapped. She actually knew what he wanted - she`d seen the look in his eyes when he watched her and Hamish - but it was the only thing that came to her mind to say.

"Well, I saw you and that other boy and... I guess, are you okay?" he said kindly. _Egotistical,_ she noted. He`d have to be to not realize that the whole academy knew he was a manipulative jerk, too wrapped up in his own world to figure out that other people actually _thought_. She was about to kick him out entirely when a memory snuck up on her, one that had been lurking in the back of her mind since she`d reached her dormitory. She`d been too caught up in her fear to realize that, when she`d kissed Hamish... the murmurs in her head had gone silent. Completely silent. Would it work if she...

"Yeah, I`m fine," Soni sniffled. The memory had come and gone in just moments, and already she had begun plotting. She was tired and worried and was it so bad if all she wanted was a little silence? No, she decided, it wasn`t. And she already had a willing participant right in front of her. "Would you like to come in?"

"If you want me to, sure. Your name`s Sonia, right?"

"Soni," she snapped, breaking character suddenly. Oops. "You`re Leroy, right?" she said quickly, hoping he hadn`t noticed.

"Yeah, I share a dorm with Hamish, so I know he can be kind of a jerk. I thought you might need someone to talk to," Leroy offered.

"Oh." Soni smiled, sitting down on her bed. Leroy joined her. "Yeah, I guess I would."

Soni talked her way through it easily, agreeing with every one of the boy`s lies, allowing him to talk himself up to her. As he leaned in closer to her, Soni couldn`t help but congratulate herself. She had manipulated Anderson like Sebastian manipulated his clients, and it had been relatively easy. She just had to keep it up for a few more seconds until...

"Ow!" She froze. Anderson`s eyes widened and he pulled back, staring at the door.

"Watson!"

Soni looked to the door where Hamish had slipped into her dormitory. "Hamish, what the heck are you doing here?!"

"Um... I-"

"Were you spying on us, Watson? How long have you been standing there you creep?" Leroy demanded.

"I can`t believe you!" Soni whimpered.

"I could just-"

"You knew I wanted to be alone, you`re smart, so quit smothering me!" she accused. She knew he`d come to apologize, but at this point Soni didn`t care. For someone who usually hid her emotions, she had always found anger a useful one and didn`t even attempt to hold it back.

"I was just coming to apologize! Besides, even you could see that Leroy`s using you!" he pointed out.

Soni rolled her eyes. "He`s not using me, I`m using him," she hissed. She could almost feel Leroy`s confusion. Hamish gave her a strange look and Soni scoffed. "You wouldn`t understand."

She had been so close, so_ close_ to silence, and now there was no chance. The moment was gone. She`d already blown it. Scornful laughter rang in her head. She could feel liquid anger flowing through her, fogging her mind. The silvery threads of a memory creeped into the haze, calming her down before she did something she`d regret. In the back of her mind the memory took form: a tall man, with a soft, lilting voice that could order death in a single word if he wished it... most would be terrified by the thought, but Soni could feel her heart rate slow. The anger wasn`t gone, not yet, but she was back in control, at least. She took a deep breath. "Get out," she said softly, cutting into the bickering of the two boys.

"What?" Leroy began to protest. "But we were-"

"Out," she cut him off. Fear in their eyes, the two boys raced from the dormitory and she slammed the door. Soni stood there for a moment, fighting off the sudden urge to cry and clearing the emotion from her face, before rushing to her nightstand and pawing through it until she found the folding knife that he`d left her. She lay down on her bed, folding the knife open then clicking it shut over and over again to calm herself. Thinking of the 'I love you', and the 'good bye' that she hadn`t known would be the last he ever said to her, or anyone...

Soni was nearly asleep when she heard the three slow knocks on the door. "Come in," she muttered, still fingering the knife.

"Good evening, Sonia," said Gabe softly. "It`s time."


	11. Chapter 11

_**CKTG:**__ Yeah, I've been trying to stop doing that for probably the past year. I think I corrected most of my mistakes in this chapter, but if I didn't, ignore it. I'm working on getting that fixed. As for the blocking of curse words, I'm still trying to work up the courage to type them out. I haven't said a cuss word besides 'hell' since first grade before I knew what they all meant, so it could take awhile to fix that little error. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the story!_

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything. Nope.

* * *

_Soni was nearly asleep when she heard the three slow knocks on the door. "Come in," she muttered, still fingering the knife._

_"Good evening, Sonia," said Gabe softly. "It`s time."_

* * *

Hamish and Leroy got a detention that night. In their rush to get back to their dormitory, they had run right into their Science Proffesor, Mr. Diesel. "We were just stopping by to apologize to a friend. We kind of ditched her half-way through the dance," Hamish had covered quickly. It wasn't the best excuse, but it had saved them from a suspension. Mr. Diesel had nodded skeptically and given each of them a detention slip for Saturday afternoon.

When Hamish woke up the next morning, Leroy and Alex had already left for breakfast. His alarm hadn`t gone off, which, in hindsight, he probably should`ve seen coming - leave it to Anderson to plot revenge before eight in the morning - and his stomach growled even as he yanked on his T-shirt. As he stepped into the Great Hall, he wasn`t surprised that Soni missing from their table. She was probably locked up in her dorm, drawing erratic, shapeless sketches in her note pad like she usually did when she was angry. Meanwhile Hamish was sitting at an empty lunch table, staring at a wall while the other students sneered behind his back. He pushed his food around his tray, wishing he`d never left his dormitory.

"What the hell did you do to Soni you creep?" Hamish felt a hard shove to his shoulder and turned emotionlessly to see Lena Adler and her friends crowding around him, teeth clenched, looking as though they would strangle him if they got the chance.

Hamish had never really thought of Soni as one to gossip, but then again he`d never thought of her as one to kiss Leroy, either. It seemed he was learning a whole lot about his 'friend' this weekend. Glaring at the clique of girls, he replied, "I didn't _do_ anything. We got in an argument, she got mad at me, and now she`s in her room pouting while I sit here alone. End of story."

Lena narrowed her eyes. "You`re a liar," she hissed. "I've heard the rumors, _creep_. You've probably got her tied up and rotting in the school`s basement."

Oh, so now he was being accused of murder? _Well,_ Hamish thought cynically,_ I guess I deserved that for sitting here and not disturbing anyone._ "I'm telling you I didn`t do anything!" he said out loud. The dark-haired girl`s eyes widened in confusion.

"But she... you were with her last night, you had to be the one that did it," Lena said with less conviction than before.

Hamish felt dread rising in his chest. He turned to face them fully and stood up from the bench. "Did what?" he asked slowly.

Beside her, a ginger muttered, "Lena, I think he's telling the truth."

Lena nodded in response and leaned closer to him. "Come with me."

The girls circled around him, hiding Hamish from the view of the Monitors as they walked at an achingly slow pace to the NW Corridor. Hamish felt his breath leave him unsteadily, and he felt numb all over. As they approached Soni`s room, the door swung on its hinges as though the handle had been broken. The hallway was clear, with the only noise being the low murmur of voices from the Great Hall, and the entered the room.

"Oh... my God..." Hamish wasn`t sure whether he'd said the words or if he'd only thought them, as only wordless air seemed to come from his mouth. This couldn`t be the same room he`d entered the night before. Soni`s nightstand drawer was on the floor, empty, with the contents strewn over the entire room. Her dress lay glittering on the floor of the closet, torn with the hanger still partially in the sleeves. All her school notes, along with her sketchpad, covered the floor by the door. Not even the mattress remained in its former position, as it was now propped diagonally against the far wall.

"Have you told a teacher? Anyone?" Hamish asked urgently.

"Just you," answered the red head calmly.

"Well - why are you just - _go_!" he spluttered, shooing them away with his hands. They raced off, not caring that their obvious fear would bring crowds of students to the scene. Hamish looked around desperately for a sign of where she had gone, though it was no challenge to find the crumpled paper on her bed frame where her mattress used to lie. _When did she get this?!_

"**Hat Man and Psycho,** _Double Suicide on St. Bart's!"_

The memory was painfully clear: a warm Christmas night, before their argument, Soni had come and invited him to the dance, handed him the newspaper-wrapped present. The disappointment in her eyes when he`d set aside the wrappings for use in Min's cage... She must`ve taken it back then, he decided as he picked it up. The pictures on the front were old, unidentifiable with their age. Instead, new writing covered the area that they had once been in, the smell of permanent marker still fresh on the page. A hasty circle was drawn around 'St. Bart's' with the word _Hurry_ scrawled sloppily under it. It was unmistakeably Soni`s handwriting.

"Students, a matter of some importance has been brought to the attention of the staff. It would now be conveniant for all students to return to their dormitories where they may continue eating if necessary. Do not leave your rooms or Monitors will assign a double detention for the next two weeks. Thank you, that is all." The voice of Wilhiem`s Headmaster sounded from the Great Hall and, without thinking, Hamish snatched the newspaper and darted from the room.

* * *

_**Soni's in trouble**_

Sherlock smirked at his phone. "John, come here," he called, typing out a reply with lightning speed.

_Moriarty's child? -SH_

"Wait, let me guess," John said, appearing in the living room in his pajamas. "You were right?" he suggested tiredly.

Sherlock nodded proudly, not noticing the sarcasm, and looked down at his phone again as it beeped.

_**yes, that one**__  
_

_Kidnapped? -SH  
_

_**seems to be**__  
_

_Don't go after her. -SH  
_

_**oh sure, because telling me 'no' has worked so well in the past**__  
_

_And while you're at it, stop being an idiot. -SH_

John was leaning over his shoulder, now, and nudged him sharply at this comment. "Well, I`m not going to take it back!" Sherlock protested. "In case you haven't noticed, I`m trying to instill some authority, here."

"Quit calling him an idiot," John chastised him. He heaved a sigh and began typing out a new text.

_You don't know where this girl is, and even if you did, you certainly have no way of getting there. -SH  
_

_**taxi.  
**_

_D***. -SH  
_

_**:)  
**_

_Where, then? -SH  
_

_**not telling**_

"John, quickly, go track his phone on your laptop," Sherlock commanded.

John didn`t argue. His anxiety was clear as he raced to his computer and began to type furiously. _Oh, thank God I bought a tracker for that phone_, he thought as he entered his password and the little glowing red dot that was Hamish appeared on the map. He was moving quickly nearer to their flat, but John doubted he would actually go there.

"He`s coming closer," John called over his shoulder. Sherlock rushed to him, still texting angrily.

"Here, you try." Sherlock shoved the phone into John's hands and stared hard at the computer screen. Though the possibilities were narrowing rapidly, there were still a million places that Hamish could be going, and Sherlock`s determined mind struggled to deduce each one of them.

"I can`t. He won`t listen," John finally said, returning the phone to him.

_Hamish, please, just listen to us. -JW  
_

_**dad, im sorry, but i have to do this**_

Sherlock frowned at the sentiment in the previous messages and began to type out his own.

_Hamish, I've predicted this, remember? It's just a trap! -SH_

"He stopped!" John announced. "He`s at Saint Bart's!"

"Come on, then, hurry!" Sherlock leaped up from the desk, pulling his coat and scarf from the rack bythe door. John yanked on his shoes, not bothering to change from his pajamas, and they both raced from the flat. The air was frigid and snow was begining to fall as John signalled for a cab, still hugging his laptop to his chest. "He must`ve turned his phone off or something, he hasn't answered," Sherlock muttered.

John rolled his eyes and sighed.

Meanwhile, twenty miles away from the flat, Hamish stood nervously outside St. Bart`s, staring at the door. His phone beeped with another message from Sherlock.

_Hamish, I`ve predicted this, remember? It`s just a trap! -SH_

He took a deep breath.

_**I know.  
**_

Hamish switched off his phone and pushed through the front doors.


	12. The End

A/N: The last one... In total, we got several reviews, favorites, and reviews, and even though that's not much compared to some stories on here, I'd say it's pretty dang good for a first try. I'm really going to miss these characters, especially Hamish and Soni - heck, maybe even Leroy - but it's finally over.

Thanks to all my reviewers and favoritors and followers for making it worthwhile to write this story! I'm so glad you read with it and stuck with Hamish till the last chapter, even in the slower chapters! Any reponses to reviews after this will be posted under these last words. So, finally, thank you so much, and with out further ado:

The Final Chapter

* * *

**Hamish, I`ve predicted this, remember? It`s just a trap! -SH**

He took a deep breath.

_**I know.**_

_Hamish switched off his phone and pushed through the front doors._

* * *

St. Batholomew's was dark and quiet. In his mind, Hamish vaguely recalled something about 'the quiet before the storm', but he pushed the thought away. Every strategy John had taught him, each deduction Sherlock had ever explained to him, all raced through his mind right now, swirling around in an endless circle, leaving no room for anything else. Part of him searched for a way out, but the other part had succumbed to cruel acceptance. He, more likely than not, was going to die.

For a while, he just stood outside of the elevator, leaning against the wall. He didn`t have much time, he knew. John had installed some sort of tracker on his cell phone which, despite his better judgement, he had brought with him. Ten minutes before John and Sherlock attempted to come to his rescue. "Just let it be quick," he said under his breath as he pressed the _'up'_ button and the elevator doors swivelled open.

The ride up took an eternity, and climbing the steps leading to the roof took even longer, as his legs refused to work properly. Finally Hamish took a deep breath and pushed open the old door.

"Hello, Hamish," a voice greeted him. A tall man lounged on the ledge of the rooftop, legs propped out in front of him. He wore a dark suit with a white hankerchief tucked into the front and was smiling invitely. Hamish was remindedly instantly of some sort of cat, or a hyena, maybe.

"Hi," Hamish responded with a tiny wave. The man gave him a curious glance before he continued to speak.

"No backup, I see. It's just as well. I'd have to kill them, too, and what a mess that would make."

"Where's Soni?" Hamish said, crossing his arms.

"What? Not going to ask who I am? Don`t want to know the name of your to-be murderer?"

"Gabriel Moriarty. I`m not that stupid." Hamish narrowed his eyes. "What? Not going to ask how I knew that?" Hamish mocked him. He had to speed this up - he only had about five minutes before John and Sherlock got to the building, and it didn`t take a genius to figure out that they`d be on the roof.

Gabriel crossed his legs and leaned in toward Hamish with false interest. "Enlighten me."

"Tell me where Soni is first," he demanded, clenching his fists. The man smiled and pointed to the stair way. Soni stepped out from behind the small chunk of wall, looking both ashamed and relieved the same time.

"Hi there," she muttered, staring at the ground as she walked over to where her uncle was now standing.

"Now, I believe we made a bargain?"

"Yes we did. Well for starters, what the hell kind of kidnapper leaves their victim enough time to leave a message? Not one that would be able to break into a boarding school, surely. And why would you need to move her matress? Or all her notes? What would the point be unless you _wanted_ me to figure out your location? So, Soni and I go to the dance, I prove that I _care_ -" he spat the word "-you take her away, and I follow in hopes of being the hero. Obviously a trap."

"You knew? You knew it was a trap and yet you came here to be killed?" Soni burst out. "Why would you-"

"Because if I don't you'll just keep coming after me anyway. I'm saving you a load of trouble, really. You should thank me."

Something close to hatred burned in his eyes as he glared at her. "Hamish, I'm-"

"Don't," he cut her off. He resisted the urge to check the time on his phone. "So how am I going to go?"

Gabriel coughed into his hankerchief then gave his catty smile. "I was thinking a fake suicide. You know, like in the papers?"

"Or?"

"Or what?"

"If I don't?"

"I'll shoot you."

"Oh." His hopes fell again, as quickly as they had risen. "Okay, then."

Soni stared to the ground. Gabriel watched expectantly. Hamish walked slowly to the ledge and hopped up onto it. Turning around, he spread his arms out and said, "Shoot me."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead, leave evidence," he challenged.

He shrugged and pulled the gun from his belt. "Okay, sure, if that's-"

It was then that the door burst open. "D*** it," Hamish groaned.

Gabriel sighed. "I was really hoping this one wouldn't be so messy."

"Hamish?" John shouted, scanning the roof top. "Oh God."

Sherlock raced up after him. "We're too late?" he said urgently. "Oh."

Two guns were pointed at Gabriel, but one was pointed at Hamish, which was enough to keep either group from shooting. "Well, it looks like we've hit a bump in the road," Gabriel sighed. Beside him, Soni's eyes flickered between the guns and Hamish. Hamish remained with a stoic face on the ledge.

"So what happens now?" questioned Sherlock.

"Well, either way, he dies," Gabriel said boredly. "So you can leave, in which case I'll shoot him and probably die of natural causes within the next month or so." To emphasize this point, he pulled the hankerchief from his pocket, carelessly pointing out the small specks of blood on it, then shoved it back into its place. "Or you can shoot me, and we can both die today."

There was a silence. John lowered his gun. "What are you doing?" Sherlock demanded.

"They're both going to die. I recognize the symptoms - this man has less than two weeks. I don't want to be the reason he shoots Hamish. I don't want to watch," John said. His voice was hoarse, but his eyes remained dry.

Sherlock's eyes flickered around erratically, thinking, deducing. Then they stopped and settled on the girl beside Gabriel. She gave a tiny nod. He blinked and his eyes were again on Gabriel, entirely emotionless, the exchange entirely unnoticed by the others. Not one of them breathed.

"Shoot!" the shout pierced the air. Within just a moment, chaos exploded on the roof top. Two gunshots fired, then a third. Hamish ducked down, and fell forward onto the roof with his hands over his head, Gabriel let go of his gun and clawed at his chest before falling, too. Soni held his gun to her chest, over the new wound, trying and failing to stop the blood, and the pain, and the noise.

Hamish had expected to feel pain and taste blood. Surely he had been shot. He`d heard the firing, all three bullets had hit flesh. He looked up slowly, his ears still ringing from the sound. John was next to him, shouting something, terror in his eyes, and Sherlock stood over Gabriel, sending a last bullet into his skull. Soni lay on the ground, almost motionless, beside the assassin.

Hamish crawled numbly over to her, ignoring his dad, ignoring the dead man on the ground, ignoring everything else but his friend. "Soni?" he said, voice cracking. Her eyes were squeezed shut, fists clenching and unclenching. The gun had already dropped to the ground, the object that had been the focus of everyone's attention just a moment ago now completely forgotten.

"Hi there," she forced out.

"Okay, okay, let's just... we can... we should, um, wrap up the wound, that's right. Wrap it up!" He began to tear away a piece of his shirt in hopes to stop the blood flowing from his friend's chest, but she stopped him.

"Hamish, stop."

"No, we can-"

"_No_, we can't. It's too late."

"Don't say that, it's not too late!" he persisted.

"Stop," she murmured. He did. "Hamish, I'm -" She burst into a fit of coughing and her eyes watered slightly.

"Save your breath, Soni, you need it."

"No, I need to say this! Hamish, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You saved my life. Thanks."

He gave a small smile and she returned it. It was erased quickly as another bout of coughing brought her a new wave of pain. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Hamish wanted to tell her it would all be alright, that there was still a chance, but he refused to lie to her. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "I know."

"Please don't leave me."

"Of course not." Hamish layed down next to her, and neither spoke.

"Should we call an ambulance?" Sherlock murmured to John near the doorway.

"They won't make it, but yeah, I'll call," he replied.

The sun rose slowly as, arms twined together, Hamish and Soni waited for the slowing pulse to fade completely. She was gone by the time paramedics got to the roof to take her. As they pulled her into the ambulance, her expression was not one of pain or sorrow. She was smiling, just barely. She had died peacefully.

Sonia Moriarty had died in silence.


End file.
